


Grasshoppers

by joychapter (rusticthrill)



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Star Wars AU, lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:54:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 33,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22330279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rusticthrill/pseuds/joychapter
Summary: “That’s what they’re saying? That I kidnapped him?” Renji’s nose is scrunched in distaste. “That’s so rude.”“We didn’t realize this was some kind of Imperial crime, picking you and your friend up.”“Renji,” Byakuya scolds, immediately.“Everyone stop yelling at me!” Renji says. He points a finger at Byakuya, “I got us a ride, didn’t I,” and then points at the holo form of Ikkaku, “you commit Imperial crimes all the time, this is nothing!”“Not on this magnitude!” Ikkaku argues, voice pitching. “You could have at least warned us!”
Relationships: Abarai Renji & Kuchiki Byakuya, Kuchiki Byakuya/Zaraki Kenpachi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 41





	1. Hey Orpheus

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, not much research went into this beyond my memories of the movies and my ideas regarding those memories. Headcanon kind of persists strongly throughout this with how the Force works, how their technology is, and various other things. This isn't really supposed to be some amazing Star Wars canon-compliant work or anything. 
> 
> This story takes place 20 years after this universe's Order 66, so roughly the time frame of the first original trilogy movie. Seeing as this is about Bleach, though, it won't necessarily follow any kind of SW canon beyond the rough outline of events. Additionally, this is more of a self-indulgent rarepair fic, so the actual rebel activities are kind of happening in the background and not in the scope of the characters I'm focusing on. I'll maybe write something else later to address the actual bulk of the action.

_ I stood upon a high place, _

_ And saw, below, many devils _

_ Running, leaping, _

_ and carousing in sin. _

_ One looked up, grinning, _

_ And said, "Comrade! Brother!" _

“Can’t this be done with,” Renji murmurs under his breath, just loud enough for Byakuya to hear. 

The jewels on Byakuya’s headdress clink together when he turns his head infinitesimally to narrow his eyes at the younger man. A low simmer of frustration burns in his gut, at this senate meeting and at Renji’s insolence. The room was well ventilated, but it stood no chance of cooling Byakuya through the red velvet of his dress and the two layers beneath it. His hair, though cut relatively short in what little rebellion he can grasp for himself, is still styled within an inch of its life, including a diadem with jewels dripping down the sides of his face. Luckily, he avoided the facepaint for today, even if his eyes and lips have been painted. 

Renji’s answering grin is bright and shows teeth, which only makes the irritation flare a little more. He’s always pushing and testing boundaries, maybe after this meeting Byakuya will make him assist in the process of undressing Byakuya from his senate finery and into his residence finery. He would rather run off and gossip with the other guards than stick around to watch Byakuya be dressed like a doll. 

Aizen can’t possibly of heard them, but Renji stiffens and Byakuya smoothes his face when the Supreme Chancellor turns towards their corner of the chamber. It’s also not possible for the man to look at them, exactly, considering their pods aren’t lifted or moved, just sat in line with the ones around them, but Byakuya can almost feel those eyes prying them apart. 

“Moving on from the front,” Aizen drones, and the map of the universe dissolves from in front of Byakuya’s pod, “we have long suspected that someone from within the senate was involved with the rebels. It only makes sense, of course, and we have taken every precaution against leaks.”

Silence rings when Aizen pauses, his head tilting to look at Gin Ichimaru next to him, the Vice Chair. The other man clicks some buttons on the podium in front of them, and it takes everything in Byakuya to not lose his composure when Rukia’s picture is projected in front of them. 

“Imperial documents have been stolen, Princess Rukia Kuchiki of Naboo has confessed to the crime.” Aizen waves a hand, and Byakuya’s pod slides out and begins moving towards the center. Renji is making a distressed noise from where he’s sitting.

“Renji,” Byakuya hisses, “get it together.”

The younger man takes a deep breath then, and goes silent. Byakuya feels his hand brush lightly over the closest part of Byakuya’s gown though, an easy tell of his nervousness. 

Jūshirō’s pod has also begun to move, which only puts more iron in Byakuya’s spin. If Jūshirō is with him, he can do anything. 

“Princess Rukia has confessed to her rebel activities, and is now spending her time in one of our prison ships. I think I speak for all of the senators when I say this is a disturbing breach of confidence and trust.” Aizen croons, and it would be so easy to sneer, none of these puppets care about the Empire. Every senator is here to prevent retaliation, that is all. 

“King Byakuya Kuchiki of Naboo, do you have anything to say for the crimes your sister has committed? How did you not notice?” Aizen asks, when Byakuya’s pod has drifted close enough. 

Of course Aizen would ask Byakuya to do this in front of the other senators. A display of power, a flexing of his muscles over an old power. 

Byakuya stands, dips his head slightly to feign shame. “I apologize for my sister’s crimes. I have not seen her recently, and was always busy when I did see her. I have clearly been too lenient with my family and with those around me. I will take action to rectify this oversight and clear my family name.”

His voice is projected across the entire senate now, and Byakuya can only keep his head down to keep the frustration from showing. How shameful. How embarrassing. To be made to bow like this in front of a dictator and criminal. Saying these things against his own sister. 

“Do you have any objections to her imprisonment?” Aizen questions, and if Byakuya looked he bets he would see amusement on the older man’s face. 

“No,” Byakuya murmurs. “She has committed treason against the Empire.”

“Senator Jūshirō Ukitake of Bespin,” Aizen moves on, turning now to the pod drifting opposite of Byakuya’s. “I understand the Princess was under your care and tutelage. How could this happen?”

“I apologize, Supreme Chancellor,” Jūshirō begins, voice strong and not showing a hint of the senator’s illness. A good day, then. “I have no excuses. I can only apologize and lower my head in shame. Like King Kuchiki, I will need to take action and keep a closer eye on those around me. This should have never been allowed and I will not allow it to happen again.”

“Thank you, Senators. I hope this has been a wake up call to you.” Aizen says, and Byakuya can feel Renji’s hand clench hard enough on Byakuya’s gown to pull a little. “Princess Kuchiki will continue to serve her time in one of our prison ships. Perhaps we can arrange for visitations sometime soon.”

“That would be agreeable,” Byakuya says, head still down. Jūshirō echoes the sentiment, and then Aizen waves their pods away. Only when the pod has touched back to its original point does Byakuya lift his head again, and turn to make eye contact with Renji. The red-headed man was not raised the way Byakuya was, and his face betrays all of his thoughts. It’s a staggering weakness, especially for someone with Byakuya’s position, but Renji is endearing. He can only hope the other man was smart enough to follow Byakuya’s lead and lower his face from view. 

⚀⚀⚀

When Aizen dismisses the meeting, Byakuya stays seated until Shunsui knocks on the door near the pod. “Come on then, Byakuya,” he says, his tone mirthful even at the most dreadful of times. 

Renji offers his hand to Byakuya, but he waves it away. He doesn’t need his help for this. He does take Shunsui’s when he offers, and the older man grins over his shoulder at Renji’s frustrated huff. It’s different with Shunsui, though, and Byakuya needs the comfort the other man offers.

They walk for awhile, drifting around the building until finally circling back to Shunsui’s own quarters. This is hardly secure, but Byakuya is willing to overlook it and trust Shunsui and Jūshirō. 

Shunsui’s quarters are as elaborate as the man himself, brightly colored tapestries strewn around and flowers sprawled across the surfaces. There’s books tossed on the furniture, likely romance ones, and music plays softly from a corner. It’s almost ridiculous, and Byakuya can’t stop the twitch of his lips at it. 

“There you are,” Shunsui laughs, bending slightly to press a sloppy kiss to Byakuya’s cheek. The younger man huffs his own laugh, turning his head from the man he considers to be something of a parent to him. 

Jūshirō comes out from one of the other rooms and immediately pulls Byakuya into his arms. 

“Sorry you had to find out like that,” Jūshirō murmurs into Byakuya’s shoulder, “everything’s been messed up.”

It’s easy to relax into Jūshirō’s warmth, Renji lingering behind them. Shunsui has the two of them pulled to his chest after a moment, his cheek on Byakuya’s temple. 

“How’d this happen?” Byakuya asks quietly, not pulling away from their embrace. 

“Ah,” Shunsui sighs, and both he and Jūshirō pull back. “We’re not sure, she must have slipped up somehow. She’s been taking charge more, you know. So we don’t always have a hand in her operations. We’re not as involved as some of the other leaders.”

“I think she’s been gallivanting around with some of Kisuke and Yoruichi’s kids,” Jūshirō says, though he’s tapping his chin in thought. “They’re a little more reckless.”

“Does she have a plan?” Renji butts in, stepping into their circle a bit more. Byakuya frowns at him, but he ignores it. 

“I’m sure,” Jūshirō answers, though it’s with the same tone he would placate Byakuya with in his youth. Renji doesn’t know the white-haired man enough to tell he’s being placated, so he only nods in response. 

“You should watch your face and shroud more,” Shunsui comments, eyes scrutinizing Renji. “Little Byakuya has it down to an art, but you’re sloppy. The Chancellor and his Vice Chair are already suspicious of us.”

“Shunsui,” Byakuya scolds, “He’s working on it. He’s had less time to perfect it.”

“You’re both right,” Jūshirō sighs, cups one of Byakuya’s cheeks. “You’re teaching him well, but now more than ever we can’t slip up. Just like when power first switched, yeah? You learned fast then, and Renji needs to learn fast now. You were eight, he’s twenty. He’s capable.”

When Byakuya glances over, Renji has his head down, cheeks lightly colored. Always an easy book to read. 

“I know,” Byakuya says, leans into Jūshirō’s palm. He brings a hand up to curl around the man’s arm. “I’m worried.”

“She’s strong,” Jūshirō whispers, leans in again to bring their foreheads together. “She’s just as strong as you and I, we raised her, right? It’ll get figured out.” 

Nanao enters the room then, pausing at the scene in front of her. 

“Hello, dear.” Shunsui croons, makes a motion with his hand like calling her over to join in. Her nose scrunches at the thought.

“Byakuya’s attendants are causing a ruckus looking for him, it’s probably time for him to go.” She says, in monotone, though the looks she gives Byakuya is apologetic.

With a sigh, Byakuya steps out from Jūshirō’s space, though he allows for the other man to kiss both his cheeks and his forehead. Shunsui similarly kisses his cheeks and forehead, but he goes back to press more sloppy kisses to Byakuya’s nose and chin until he gets shoved off. 

“Don’t be gross,” Nanao scowls, and Byakuya sticks his tongue out at the two men. 

“We’ll take our leave,” Byakuya says, gesturing Renji to exit. 

“We’re here for you,” Jūshirō says back, follows them to the door and sees them out. 

“They’re as overbearing as ever,” Renji mutters once they’ve gotten far enough from the door that they’re not visible. 

“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” Byakuya says, hands folded carefully in front of him. The gown is starting to pull heavy on his shoulders and the headpiece is starting to feel a thousand pounds. “I think we should head back to Naboo sooner rather than later. We have no privacy here.”

Byakuya lowers his voice enough that Renji needs to step almost indecently close to hear him, but the other people in the hall barely glance at them. Renji used to be the only thing anyone would look at, the two of them zoo animals being gawked at. Byakuya in all of his Naboo gowns and facepaint and Renji with his red hair and extensive tattoos. Renji was so obviously not royal or highborn it was almost a slap in the face. 

Aizen once commented on it, but Byakuya said: “Who better to lead my guard than someone who knows what to guard me from?” 

Somewhat unusual his guard accompanies him to senate meetings, but Byakuya can get away with lots of things. He’s royal enough and pretty enough that most people oblige him. 

Once they return to Byakuya’s rooms, Renji slumps into one of the chairs and glares out the window. So dramatic. Byakuya pats his shoulder when he passes by to get to his bedroom. 

It’s a production getting all the layers off, and he breathes easy when the bodice and the constriction over his chest is removed. 

“I have no more engagements today,” Byakuya says to his lead attendant, so she allows him to dress in sleep pants and shirt. It’s loose enough that Byakuya doesn’t feel uncomfortable, and even if it wasn’t Renji is one of the few people in his life he trusts enough to see him unbound. 

When the attendants finally leave, Byakuya spills backwards onto his bed. Aizen has been making more moves. It’s hard to tell, exactly, since Byakuya has been disconnected from the Rebels, but it would seem they have been pushing harder recently. This Rukia business tells him there is a lot more going on then would appear. It’s hard for him to get news, his connections looser than Jūshirō and Shunsui’s and they still feel the need to protect Byakuya like he’s the same eight year old they found soaked in his father’s blood. 

Or the twenty year old they found hunched and sobbing over his dead wife’s body. Whatever the case, it makes it hard for Byakuya to gain the information he would like. 

“What should we do?” Renji asks from the doorway, leaning against the jamb with has hand picking at his lip. Another nervous tick. 

“Don’t pick at yourself,” Byakuya nags, and then he sighs. “I’m not sure. They were right, she’s strong, but…”

Renji’s hand drops at Byakuya’s words, but he moves to pace the length of the window in Byakuya’s bedroom. 

They’re interrupted by a knock at the front door of the quarters, Renji stiffening and his fingers reaching for the blaster strapped to his hip. 

“Expecting anyone?” He growls, though he knows Byakuya isn’t. They spent all day together, Renji knew Byakuya’s schedule just the same. 

Byakuya pulls a robe from the closet, thick and purple and big enough to drape over his form. It has Naboo embroidery and symbols all down the front panels, pretty and gold. He ties it tight enough to hold but loose enough to not accentuate his waist. Renji opens the door while Byakuya places his silver Kuchiki adornments into his hair. 

“Ah,” Renji says, loud enough for Byakuya to hear. “Vice Chair Ichimaru, I didn’t know you were coming to visit.”

Gin? Not good then. 

“Sorry,” Gin says, though he hardly sounds it. Byakuya can hear the laugh in his voice. “I just wanted to speak with Byakuya and offer my sympathy.”

“It’s no problem,” Byakuya says graciously, when he steps out into the main part of the quarters. “I would like to apologize as well for the disruption my sister has surely caused to the Empire.”

Gin smiles and waves his hand to dismiss the other’s words. “No need to be so formal, Byakuya.”

Byakuya doesn’t let his irritation show on his face, but it’s annoying when Gin does this. Renji is not as gracious though, his irritation is evident on his face when he sits in a chair by the door. Byakuya sweeps some of his hair behind his ear and tilts his head to keep Gin’s attention on him. 

“What would you like to discuss?” Byakuya asks, gestures for Gin to sit on the couch near the middle of the room, and where his back would be to Renji. Gin steps passed him and sits on the couch facing Renji instead. So annoyingly clever. 

Before Byakuya sits as well, where he wanted Gin to sit, he glares at Renji until his face smooths. 

“How are you feeling? About Rukia?” Gin asks, crosses his legs primly. 

“I am conflicted,” Byakuya says, folds his hands in his lap. “Renji, can you get us some tea?”

“Fine,” Renji grunts, disappears into the kitchen. 

“So surly,” Gin giggles, “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

“Our relationship is not like that,” Byakuya drones, blinks placidly at Gin.

“Byakuya,” Gin leans forward, voice dangerously low. “Cut the shit.”

“What do you mean?” Byakuya feigns, raises his brows like he’s confused.

“I’m your age, remember? I know you were in the academy. Aizen does as well.” 

“I did not complete my training, and I would no longer qualify to be trained anyway.”

“Isn’t it strange, how you used to have such tremendous power in the Force,” Gin drawls, “and how you were taken in by two just as powerfully strong Force users, and now all three of you no longer are connected to the Force?”

Byakuya frowns. 

“Shunsui and Jūshirō were being primed to be kicked out of the order anyway, you know that. They were together, that’s not allowed.” Renji slides two cups onto the table between the couches, and pours tea into both of them. He leaves the kettle on the table and retreats back to his seat. “I was young then, and not fully trained. We were not indoctrinated into the Order. It’s only natural our connection to the Force diminished as we stopped reaching for it.”

Gin sips his tea carefully, humming lightly.

“Anyway, I was married. You know that’s not allowed for Jedi. The only thing stopping Shunsui and Jūshirō are their diplomatic relations. My parents were similarly kicked out of the order. Every generation of Kuchiki ends up no longer being connected to the Force. This is old history.”

“I’m sure you can understand why we would be suspicious,” Gin says, “we just need to watch our backs.”

“I agree with you,” Byakuya simpers, and he allows his robe to fall open just enough when he crosses his legs. Gin is easy to distract, when you know him and his tastes. He can almost hear Renji’s teeth grind behind him. “Again, I apologize for what my sister has--”

In a flash, Gin is up and inches away from Byakuya, hand curled centimeters from Byakuya’s neck. The pressure from the Force makes Byakuya choke, fingers flying up to scrabble at Gin’s wrist like that will stop him. Renji has his blaster pointed at Gin’s head, hand on Byakuya’s shoulder as if he intends to yank him up and over the couch. Gin’s eyes are open, staring hard at Byakuya’s face. He’s leaned over, free hand planted over the shoulder Renji’s hand isn’t grasping. His face is close and breath gusting over Byakuya’s face. 

“Your padawan lets his shroud slip when anyone threatens you. You think you’re so smart, but not everyone is the prodigy you and I are. Aizen sees right through Shunsui and Jūshirō, he’s too taken by your pretty little costumes and fake bowing and ass kissing to focus on you two, though.” 

Byakuya can’t take a breath in, and his clawing at Gin’s wrist is getting him nowhere.

“I’m not so taken by your prettiness to not see the undertrained padawan right under my nose,” Gin murmurs, the pressure letting up enough that Byakuya manages to suck in a little air. “Think about that before you try to lie to me again.”

When he stands back up, Byakuya slumps into the couch, hands covering his neck. Renji still has his blaster pointed at Gin, but the other man ignores him and strides out the door without a glance. In the next second, Renji is on him, pulling his hands from his neck to inspect him for any injuries. 

Byakuya is gasping to suck in air, head just foggy enough that he’s allowing Renji to cling the way he is.

“Fuck,” Renji is saying, voice panicky. “Byakuya, I’m sorry, you--, I mean, Byakuya--”

“Stop,” Byakuya manages, hands pushing Renji away, “stop touching me for a second.”

Renji immediately yanks his hands away, stands up so he’s not pressed all along Byakuya’s side. 

“Sorry,” he’s saying again, voice pitching higher. “Sorry, I didn’t, I thought--”

“Renji,” Byakuya says, interrupting his panicked rambling. “I want you to go tell Jūshirō what just happened. Please.”

He looks reluctant, like he can’t imagine leaving Byakuya alone. “You’re not actually my bodyguard.” Byakuya snaps, eyes narrowed. “Like I would need you to protect  _ me _ .”

“You don’t need to be mean about it,” Renji pouts, though the slump in his shoulders look genuine. He leaves then, and Byakuya can’t even find it in him to care. Jūshirō needs to be warned, and Byakuya is tired. He’s tired and has yet to have a moment to himself to properly deal with how he feels about Rukia being in prison. On some ship in space, being treated like some common criminal. It’s insulting. Aizen was meaning to insult, he’s spitting in Naboo’s face with this, and Byakuya just has to take it. 

He cries then, stupid fat tears that drip into the plush fabric of the robe and makes his nose run. Rukia, who he loves more than anyone, gone to some part of the universe he has no clue of and involving herself in Rebel activities and getting herself caught and being  _ imprisoned _ . It’s almost too much to bear. At least Aizen hasn’t brought up execution. Byakuya doesn’t even know if he has the mental fortitude to placidly and demurely lower his head to allow  _ Rukia _ to be executed. 

Before Renji can return, Byakuya drags himself back to his bed. Shrugging the robe onto the floor and crawling under the covers, he ruminates on the mess they’ve gotten themselves into. Renji is undertrained, but he’s not so undertrained that Byakuya can’t trust him. You’d only see the shakiness of his shroud if you were looking for it and also pushing for a reaction. Gin probably spotted it when Byakuya had to speak in front of Aizen. Of course Renji’s weakness is Byakuya. He’d plucked Renji right off the street and made him his padawan. He spends almost all of his time with the other man. It’s been years of this, obviously Renji would waiver when his master is threatened. 

It doesn’t make things better, but Byakuya isn’t mad. This was only inevitable. They’ve played with fire for twenty years, they were bound to get burned. Aizen already suspects Shunsui and Jūshirō, they no longer have room to make mistakes. Rukia is forcing their hand now, pointing fingers at their little family unit. Renji is the weak link, whether he likes it or not. Byakuya just has to work a little harder to cover that up, that’s all. It’s fine.

When Renji gets back, Byakuya has lulled himself into a near sleep, shifts questioningly when Renji hovers nearby. 

“Can I…?” Renji gestures towards the other side of the bed. 

He’s worried, if he wasn’t shrouded Byakuya thinks he would be able to see the fear wafting off of him. 

Byakuya pulls the covers aside in invitation, Renji yanks off the top layer of his guard uniform and slides under to lay on his side and face Byakuya. It’s with a sigh that Byakuya catches the younger man’s hand and clasps it, some form of comfort to keep him from staying awake all night worrying about his master. 

⚀⚀⚀

“Come with me,” Jūshirō says pleasantly, hooking his arm with Byakuya’s. Today, Byakuya has managed to get away with wearing wide-brim, indigo pants with a tight, slightly darker bodice. He has an overcoat on top of it, a shade lighter than the bodice and heavily jeweled. He only had diplomatic meetings scheduled for the day, so there was hardly a need to impress. Jūshirō, in contrast, is still drastically dressed down from Byakuya. His white hair is bound up, like he’s expecting to need to keep it out of his face, and he only has the basic black drapery of the senator's position. Normally, he goes out more, not to the level of Shunsui or Byakuya, but enough to not look out of place with them. 

Renji catches Byakuya’s eye, looks to follow, but Jūshirō waves him off. There’s enough hesitation in Renji’s next step that Byakuya waves him away as well. He doesn’t mean to insult, ever, but he has a tendency to get caught up in Byakuya’s deceptive slightness and demure attitude when he’s on Coruscant. Especially when threats have been leveled at the King. 

Jūshirō walks him out onto a balcony off the senate building, the wind is loud here and the vehicles echo up the walls. Perfect place for a clandestine meeting. 

“Gin threatened you?” Jūshirō asks, likely to confirm Renji’s report. Again, Renji can get... _ hysterical _ when it comes to Byakuya being threatened, no less when the person threatening is the Vice Chair.

“Sort of,” Byakuya says, shoving his hands into the sleeves of his overcoat. “He showed their hand, I don’t really know why. Aizen is onto you and Shunsui.”

“Hmm,” Jūshirō hums, looks out over the cityline. “Do you remember when we first took you in?”

“Of course,” Byakuya says, slightly bewildered at this turn in topic. 

“We were due a meeting with the Jedi Council in a few days,” Jūshirō recounts, tapping his own cheek in thought. “Likely to be confronted with our relationship. How silly. Anyway, your father met with us then. Told us that it’s not the end of the world and that we could still be happy even without the Force.”

Byakuya stays silent, bites his lip at the mention of his father. 

“I think he would be very proud of you,” Jūshirō chokes, his hand swiping over his eyes briefly. “I know we are, you’ve been through so much, Byakuya.” 

“Jūshirō…”

“You’ve been the son Shunsui and I always wanted, even if you came to us in such bad circumstances. You know how much you mean to us? You even gave us a daughter to look out for as well. She’s, well, a troublemaker, but still.”

“What’s going on?” Byakuya whispers, stepping in to hold onto Jūshirō’s upper arms and catch his eyes. 

“Make sure you pass on what we’ve given you to Renji, yeah? He’s like another son for us even if he doesn’t want to be.” Jūshirō keeps going, in this wistful tone like he’s about to die. It’s starting to make Byakuya nervous and jumpy. 

“Stop,” Byakuya grinds out. “What’s going on, just tell me.”

“Remember when Yoruichi had to leave?”

“Of course.”

“We need to leave also,” Jūshirō whispers, voice nearly stolen by the wind. “It’s too dangerous for us and for you if Aizen is onto us. I’m going to pretend I’m sick and sneak out with Shunsui and Nanao during the night.”

Byakuya opens his mouth, but ends up just closing it again. No idea what to say in response.

“I’m sorry,” Jūshirō says.

“I don’t know what to do without you here,” Byakuya says, and he wishes his voice didn’t sound so weak and stupid and whiny. He’s not a child, he’s twenty-eight and with a padawan of his own. He doesn’t need to depend on his master like this, like he’s still the broken little kid he was back then. 

“Yes, you do,” Jūshirō murmurs, hands coming up to frame Byakuya’s face. “Gin gave you a warning. Shape Renji up and you will be fine. Aizen still sees you as weak and pliable. Shunsui and I have been too suspicious for too long, but you look like a coddled King who was given everything he wanted.”

“Jūshirō,” Byakuya says, and he’s almost ashamed at the way it was a whimper.

“Byakuya,” Jūshirō parrots, not unkindly. “Listen to me, you can do this. We have always been here for you, and just because we will be in hiding doesn’t mean you won’t see us ever again.”

“Yoruichi said the same thing,” Byakuya hisses. “I still haven’t seen her since.”

“Don’t act like a child,” Jūshirō hisses back. “This is the reality of the world we are living. I believe once we leave they will start searching your quarters and questioning you. Make sure Renji doesn’t misstep. Remember, Aizen believes you to be a spoiled brat who has always gotten everything he wanted. Be shocked, be scared.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Byakuya finally says, and he blinks hard to keep the tears out of his eyes. “You’ve always been with me.”

“You’re not alone,” Jūshirō comforts, bringing their foreheads together. “When you go back to Naboo you’ll still feel me all the same in the Force. Renji is here with you. You’re strong, Byakuya. You can get through this.”

“I don’t have enough contacts with the Rebels,” Byakuya says. “I don’t know how to reach them.”

“You don’t need to reach them, they’ll reach you. It’s better this way. Aizen can’t catch you doing anything illicit if you really aren’t.” 

That seems ridiculous, seeing as Byakuya is trained enough as a Jedi to have his own padawan. He should be allowed just as Shunsui and Jūshirō are to have contacts. He’s being coddled, again, like he’s really that spoiled brat King. Jūshirō will trust Rukia first to do the missions before Byakuya, despite him being more well-trained than her. 

Jūshirō must read this indignation on his face, because he sighs and pulls back to pinch Byakuya’s cheek.

“We need someone in the senate. You know this. It’s better we don’t risk our contacts when we don’t need to. Stop whatever tantrum you’re about to throw and think rationally.” 

“Fine.”

“Good. Remind Renji you’re his master and he doesn’t need to protect you for real. I love you and so does Shunsui. He won’t be able to say goodbye to you, but he told me to give you extra kisses to make up for it.”

“Ugh,” Byakuya leans away from the insistent cheek kisses. “You just said I’m not a child.”

“You will always be my kid,” Jūshirō grins, wraps Byakuya in a tight hug. “I’ll get in contact as soon as I can.”

“I’m going to miss you,” Byakuya says, and hopes Jūshirō didn’t hear the break in his voice. 

“We’re going to miss you, too. You’re not alone though, so just keep your head up. You know what to do.”

When Byakuya meets back up with Renji the younger man’s eyes widen at the redness in Byakuya’s eyes. His concern gets a terse, “later,” and then they’re back to moving through the schedule. 

⚀⚀⚀

“They’re leaving?” Renji demands later that night, in Byakuya’s bathroom. He’s soaking in the bath, Renji perched on the toilet. “What are we supposed to do? Won’t it look bad for us if they disappear?”

Chewing thoughtfully on the fruit his attendants brought in, Byakuya hums. “I’m also concerned about that. I think some more vigilance will be needed. You need to watch your emotions, also.”

Renji’s face burns red. “I know! I’m trying! Is it really so bad that I have feelings?”

“It’s not bad,” Byakuya says. “You just make it too obvious. I have feelings too, but I keep them quiet. That’s all you need to do. When we aren’t walking such a tight line you can express yourself.”

“I’ve been getting better,” Renji mutters, and Byakuya can’t help but laugh at his tone.

“Yes, you’re better. If Gin had come in here and force-choked me two years ago you would have shot the blaster and called me master in front of him.” Byakuya blows some bubbles at him. It’s nice to let loose a little like this. Renji has been his right hand man for a long time now, and he responds better when Byakuya is kind and open. 

“Anyway,” Byakuya sighs, pauses to think it over. “I think Aizen will be turning his full attention to us now. Naboo is influential, my family has been deeply imbedded in politics for centuries. He will want to ensure he’s not losing me.” 

“How should we deal with that?”

“Jūshirō thinks that Aizen believes me to be a spoiled brat. Gin basically confirmed that, yesterday. As long as we don’t make any mistakes I believe we can keep it going.”

“That seems impossible.”

“We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?” Byakuya asks, though Renji is right. It doesn’t feel like something they can accomplish. Byakuya has come quite far since the days when his grandfather scolded him for being too untrained and too expressive, and Renji has come far from where he started, but this is an entirely different game they’re playing now. 

“I just think we should plan for the worst,” Renji says, and he sinks to the bathmats on the floor and catches Byakuya’s suds-covered hand. “I know out of the two of us, you’re more in tune with the Force, but it just doesn’t feel right. Even without that, there is no way Aizen can believe you to be so naive.”

“I don’t have any contacts,” Byakuya finally relents, squeezing Renji’s hand. “If push comes to shove we should flee the same as everyone else. I can only imagine what will happen to my home, but it’s better we have our lives.”

“I might know some people,” Renji ponders, though he seems reluctant. 

“How? You’ve been with me since you were fourteen,” Byakuya demands, sitting up enough to narrow his eyes at Renji.

“That’s old for stupid force-sensitive kids in the outer rim! I know a lot of people! Just, lets not worry too much until we need it, okay?”

“Fine. I expect Aizen will discover Shunsui and Jūshirō and their attendants gone by tomorrow morning. When Yoruichi left there was an immediate emergency senate meeting called. Considering the circumstances, I believe we will be stuck here for awhile after. If it all goes well and we end up back in Naboo, we are free. I’ll start sending someone in my stead to senate dealings. We just have to get back to Naboo.”

“We just have to get back to Naboo,” Renji repeats, and finally leans back to rest against the wall. “But first, the hardest days of our lives, huh?”

⚀⚀⚀

Byakuya’s attendants tie him into one of the most extreme corsets he owns the next morning, bind his chest just as savagely. It’s for the best, actually, because the lack of breathing room gives Byakuya a breathy tone and makes him look skinny and frail. He’s given a red velvet skirt and bodice. He doesn’t even protest the facepaint this time, though he frowns until they simply put his silver Kuchiki adornments in his hair and don’t gel it within an inch of its life. Renji is similarly dressed in a red guard outfit, loose pants that tighten at the ankle and a work coat over a tight tunic. They make a nice pair, Renji just barely taller than Byakuya and with an outfit that emphasizes his width compared to Byakuya’s slightness. Normally, Byakuya would hate it. He’s Renji’s master and has never once been pinned by the other man, but in this circumstance it’s perfect.

As predicted, an emergency senate meeting is called. The news arrives in the form of senate guards banging on the door to Byakuya’s quarters and a note from Aizen with the time of the meeting scribbled down. It only starts to feel real when they step out of the rooms, and are immediately flanked by more senate guards. 

“What’s going on?” Byakuya asks, and his tone is lighter than usual, as if he’s confused. Really, it’s the corset. 

“Just a precaution, Senator,” one of the guards rumbles, though Renji raises his brows.

“I’m sure I can protect the Senator fine on my own,” he says, one hand coming to rest on his blaster.

“We’re not here to protect the Senator,” the guard says.

“What? What’s happening?” Byakuya stops then, turns quick and fakes like he’s getting a headrush. Renji’s hand clamps around his bicep to keep him steady. It’s almost hilarious how doubtful the guards look that Byakuya could be a flight risk. 

“Byakuya,” Gin calls, from down the hall. “Stop tormenting the guards. The meeting is starting soon.”

Renji rights Byakuya back towards their pod, and Byakuya frowns. “Vice Chair Ichimaru, please. We are in public. Call me King or Senator Kuchiki.”

“My apologies,” Gin smiles, and before he disappears further down the hall says, “we are requesting no personal attendants or guards in this meeting. Renji will have to wait outside.”

“What--” Renji starts, but Byakuya waves him off. 

“Wait outside the door,” Byakuya says. “It’s just a meeting.”

The eye contact they hold must seem more heated than it really is, Renji petulant and Byakuya stony, because one of the guards clears his throat awkwardly when the silence goes on too long. 

Renji opens the door for him, and Byakuya slides into the pod by himself. He has never needed advisors or anything of that sort, so Renji is the only one who will be left by his door. Other Senators will be more impacted by this than him. This might even be a good thing, Byakuya with his facepaint is a statue who cannot be cracked. Renji would only make this meeting more treacherous.

After ten minutes, the Supreme Chancellor’s pod rises with Aizen and Gin in it. There’s the slightest echo of arguments in the hallway, but the Senators in the meeting chamber quiet down immediately. 

“I’m sorry to spring this meeting on everyone,” Aizen begins, “but a variety of significant events have happened over the last night.”

When Aizen pauses again, Shunsui and Jūshirō’s holo-figures show up then, accusingly. 

“Last night, Senators Kyōraku and Ukitake fled from the Empire. Their location is currently unknown. Additionally, Princess Kuchiki has escaped from the Imperial prison ship she was confined to.”

That’s new. Byakuya had no idea. His pod shifts from the wall then, coming back down towards the middle.

“I believe additional questioning is warranted. King Kuchiki, do you have anything to say for your sister and your mentors?”

Byakuya stands, and bows at the waist. Like this, his face is looking at the floor. His expression is schooled, but Aizen likes to see the tops of people’s heads. He likes the power rush of people bowing to him. If Byakuya had an ounce less pride he would be on his hands and knees. 

“Supreme Chancellor Aizen, Vice Chair Ichimaru, and my fellow Senators, I do not know how to express my shame at what my family has done. I only hope that my sincerity is heard and that I am allowed to regain the trust of the Senate. The treasonous activities of those around me have come out of nowhere, and I was in no way aware of their machinations. This is shameful for me, and will require me to purge my inner circles.”

Aizen makes no noise for a second, like he’s working through Byakuya’s statements.

“Look me in the eye, Senator.”

Byakuya lifts his head to make eye contact with him.

“I suppose you believe the Jedi to be dead?”

“Yes.”

“When did you last see Senator Ukitake?”

“Yesterday. He and I discussed marriage prospects.”

A mumble ripples through the senate. These kinds of discussions are personal, and Byakuya is one of the top bachelors in the senate. Any marriage talks are bound to distract.

“What about Senator Kyōraku?”

“Only after the last senate meeting. We discussed our surprise at Princess Kuchiki’s betrayal. I realize now I was being played.”

Aizen waves him off then, his pod drifting back to the wall. 

“We will be voting on a measure to increase funding towards our military defense funds. I’m sure you can all see now why it’s necessary to be focusing on this, with so many traitors in our midst. For the sake of the Empire, things will be a little different around here.” Aizen says, gesturing wildly around the chamber. 

The measure passes, because of course it does, and when Byakuya steps out into the hallway Renji is immediately there, hand on his elbow. 

“I would like to retire to my room,” Byakuya announces to the hallway at large, Renji next to him and the guards standing around them. “It has been a trying day for me.”

The whole entourage barely gets down the hall before Aizen is there, breaking through the guards and smiling pleasantly at Byakuya. 

“Ah, are you busy?” Aizen asks, offering his hand for Byakuya to take. He does, because he’s meant to be demure and unassuming. That’s his role. Even if he has an occasionally smart mouth in the chamber and long-winded statements of innocence. 

“I was going back to my room,” Byakuya states, Renji’s hand falling off his elbow when Aizen pulls Byakuya up next to himself instead. “I’m sure you can understand how the last few days have come as a blow to me.”

“Yes, yes.” Aizen turns them down a hallway decidedly not heading back to Byakuya’s room. “I was hoping we could have lunch together, if you were up to it.”

Byakuya could easily back out, here, actually, considering the guards have already seen him feign weakness and Renji is almost certainly frothing at the mouth behind them to get Byakuya bundled back up in his room. But, it would look bad. Byakuya hiding away would do nothing to make their passage back to Naboo any easier. It would be suspicious if he avoided Aizen and Gin forever. 

“I would love to have lunch with you,” Byakuya says, head tilted enough that he’s looking at Aizen through his eyelashes. “I think it would be beneficial to be around someone I’m sure I can trust.”

Aizen smiles at his words, leans in closer to whisper into his ear. “Call off your dog, he’s about to go for my throat.”

Turning slowly, Byakuya meets Renji’s eyes. Always the open book, his face immediately shows his distaste. At least everyone thinks they’re having some sort of illicit affair and his anger can be written off as jealousy. Byakuya might beat his ass back in their rooms for this clear display of emotion in front of  _ Aizen _ of all people. 

“Renji, there’s plenty of guards here. I’m sure you can take the rest of the day for yourself?”

It takes a second, but Renji’s face finally settles and he bows slightly. “Of course, King Kuchiki.”

After that, he turns and heads back the way they came. 

“Finally,” Aizen sighs, settling Byakuya’s hand in the crook of his elbow. “He’s quite emotional, isn’t he?”

“He’s young,” Byakuya replies, allowing Aizen to lead him. “It’s endearing after awhile.”

“Hmm,” is all Aizen says in response. 

Two more corners, safely far enough from where Renji could possibly be, and Aizen has his fingers around Byakuya’s throat and is forcing him against the wall. 

“I sometimes wonder,” Aizen hisses under his breath, the guards turning to look away. “How could a Kuchiki brat not have any talent in the Force? Especially one that was enrolled in the Academy. You’ve come here year after year, even when you hid behind Jūshirō, and I would never sense anything. Isn’t that strange? The first in your family to have no talent?”

Scrambling at his wrist like he did to Gin, Byakuya pushes onto his tiptoes to try and get away from the force around his throat. This time, however, Aizen is using his hand with the Force only aiding in the pressure. It feels like he’s trying to pop his head right off his shoulders. There’s no breath left for him to reply, so he just shakes his head and gapes like a fish out of water.

He gets released then, Aizen’s hands catching him under the armpits to keep him standing. 

“That was rash of me,” he sighs, pressing his body against Byakuya’s. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t doubt you so much when you’ve only ever done what I’ve asked of you.”

Byakuya has no idea what to say in this situation.

“I haven’t ruined lunch for you, have I?” Aizen asks, a finger swiping some of Byakuya’s hair off his cheek. 

With wide eyes, Byakuya shrugs. 

Walking further down the corridor, they approach one of the garden balconies. Aizen leads him to one of the tables nearest to the edge, where conversation will surely be sufficiently drowned out by the city noises. 

Aizen orders for them both, and then leans forward. “Tell me, King Kuchiki, how long has it been since Hisana?”

That one hurts, just enough for Byakuya to pause and clear his throat. “Eight years.”

“You two married so young.”

“It was love, Supreme Chancellor. I knew I wanted to spend my life with her.”

“And now you’re looking for a new spouse? Isn’t that rude?”

Byakuya forces a blush, hides his mouth with his hand. “Sorry, Supreme Chancellor. That’s a personal matter, I don’t know if I want to discuss more about it.”

“Is your head guard in the running? You know how rumors get spread. I’ve always figured your family preferred you settle with a man.”

That one really stings. Stings down the bone and to the soul. Aizen always knows the wrong question to ask. 

“My family is dead. It is only me and--, only me, now, I suppose. My personal life has always been under my control. The court didn’t like Hisana because she was lowborn, not because she was a woman.”

Aizen nods, “I didn’t mean to offend, I was only curious.”

“In any case,” Byakuya sighs, “Renji is lowborn as well. I will not anger the court for a third time.”

They go silent when the food arrives, and Byakuya patiently allows Aizen to play more Force games, like pulling the food off his fork or even pulling his fork away. It’s all a test, to see if Byakuya’s own connection to the Force will respond. It won’t, Byakuya is too well shrouded, but it is frustrating. 

“Senator Ukitake took you in after your family died, correct?” Aizen asks once he tires of his game.

“Yes,” he pauses again to clear his throat, blinks his eyes a few times to make himself look emotional. “He was like a father to me, today has really made me rethink things.”

“So strange for him to not include you in their plans,” Aizen says, and he’s not nearly as clever as he thinks he is.

“They’ve coddled me from the time they found me,” Byakuya sighs. “I think they thought I was weak. Too bad for them they have left me with you, I am not as weak as they think I am.”

Aizen grins then, all teeth. He’s really quite handsome, even if Byakuya’s blood curdles at the thought of him. “You’re the Empire’s gem, Byakuya.”

Byakuya blushes again, hides a giggle in his napkin. Part of him is tense, waiting for Aizen’s next blow. Surely the moment in the hallway wasn’t some sudden attack. He’s testing Byakuya. 

“Can you tell me about Senator Shihoin?” Aizen asks then, like he’s fishing for all of Byakuya’s trauma. Really, it’s a miracle Byakuya has lasted this long. Every single person he has ever had a close relationship with has switched sides, leaving only him to flounder in Aizen’s grasp.

“Yoruichi was who Jūshirō would leave me with when he was busy. She was fairly annoying, I’m sure you remember how she was. I was fond of her, but nothing beyond that.”

Aizen hums, sips slowly from his drink. 

“Does the name Ichigo Kurosaki ring any bells to you?”

Byakuya thinks on it, and no, it really doesn’t. 

“No, Supreme Chancellor. I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“Please, Byakuya,” Aizen says, “call me Sōsuke when we’re not doing official work.”

That feels far too intimate, but Byakuya will do as he says. 

“Of course, Sōsuke,” Byakuya murmurs. 

“Ichigo Kurosaki is the Rebels new toy,” Aizen says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “He broke your sister out of our prison ship.”

“I haven’t spoken to her months,” Byakuya says, wistfully, and this isn’t faked. “We had a falling out recently. I was still trying to make the time to reconcile with her.”

“What did you fight about?”

“She would rather not take up her position in our court, I want her by my side,” Byakuya shrugs, but turns to look out over the city. “It doesn’t matter now.”

That is not the full truth, however. They fell out because Byakuya would not join in on her spying the way she wanted. It’s easy to twist the truth, though. 

“How selfish,” Aizen says. “You risk your position to bring her to your side and she rejects it in the end while still using the title given.”

Byakuya shrugs again, doesn’t continue the train of thought. 

Aizen’s fingers brush Byakuya’s throat then, making him jump and turn back towards the older man. 

“You’re bruising,” Aizen murmurs. “I apologize. You can understand why I would be suspicious, correct?”

“Of course,” Byakuya says back, lowering his gaze. 

“Let me walk you back to your room,” Aizen says as he rises, taking Byakuya’s hand to pull him up as well. 

It’s a mostly quiet walk, the guards following behind them and Aizen humming a tune. 

Outside of his quarters, Aizen turns towards him. 

“Place my name on your list of prospective husbands. I doubt anyone will provide as many connections and rise Naboo’s image as much as I can.”

He takes a step closer then, hands moving to Byakuya’s shoulders. Maybe Renji heard Byakuya’s inner shriek, or maybe he was listening at the door the entire time, but the doors woosh open then. 

“King Kuchiki,” Renji says, breaking the moment before anything could happen. 

“Renji,” Byakuya sighs, stepping back from Aizen and moving towards the door. “Thank you for lunch, Sōsuke.”

“Anytime,” Aizen says back, turning on his heel and disappearing down the hall. 

The moment the door closes and leaves Renji and Byakuya alone in the quarters, Byakuya goes boneless. Renji is only just quick enough to grab him before he sinks to the floor. 

“Gods,” Renji gasps, fingers pulling his collar away from his sore neck. “What the hell happened?”

“He was testing me, just like Gin,” Byakuya sighs. “Sorry, can you help me undress?”

Renji grumbles, but drags him back to the bedroom, helps him pull off his layers and untie the corset. Once it loosens, Byakuya slumps onto the bed and buries his face into the comforter. 

“He wants to  _ marry _ me.”

“What!” Renji shrills, turning from where he was digging out a more comfortable outfit for Byakuya. “Who said you were looking?”

“I did,” Byakuya groans. “Normally, if I bring up discussion around arranging my marriage everyone leaves me alone. It’s not something you should talk publicly about, but Aizen asked to be considered.”

“I can’t believe you,” Renji grumbles, dumps a flowery yukata onto his head. “He asked to marry you after he bruised you up like that? I can see his handprint!”

“He called me the Empire’s gem, and then inquired about whether the court would rather I marry a man, so we can have  _ children _ .” Byakuya continues, sitting up and yanking off the loosened corset so he can slide into and tie the yukata around himself. 

Renji gapes at him then, face going through so many emotions Byakuya can barely keep track of them. 

When Byakuya found Rukia, he found Renji. It took him a year to get Renji as his padawan, though. A year of trying to hunt Renji back down. Byakuya was twenty-two when he found him again, when Renji was fourteen. Ever since then, Renji has been by his side. This must be what Jūshirō feels for him, Byakuya thinks soberingly.

Twisting his hands together in front of himself, Renji looks two seconds from going on a rampage in Byakuya’s honor. 

“Come here,” Byakuya sighs, opens his arms for the larger man to crowd into his space. Normally, he doesn’t allow this, uncomfortable with touch and proximity, but they both need the contact.

Renji melts immediately into him, crushing him back into the bed. Byakuya has enough bulk to not struggle underneath his weight, deceptively strong despite his leanness. They’re in this compromising position, in full view of the door, when Tōsen Kaname and his Imperial guards step into Byakuya’s room. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he says in monotone. The guards with him turn their heads away. Byakuya wraps his arms around Renji’s neck to keep them pressed together. He’s too uncovered to be seen by this many people. Renji is helpful in this order, his arms around Byakuya’s waist not loosening. 

“May I ask what you’re doing, barging into my personal quarters?” Byakuya hisses, voice raised to reach the front door from his room. 

“We’ve been asked to search your quarters,” Tōsen answers, gestures for some of the guards to get started. “Just making sure there’s nothing we need to be concerned about.”

“Can’t this wait for me to get dressed?” Byakuya says, glaring when Tōsen steps into the bedroom with them. 

“No, this is ideal actually,” he says. “This way we can do the search without you getting in the way.” 

Renji moves to get up, but Byakuya deadweights until he stays down with him.

“This is an insult to the Senator,” Renji sniffs, pulling the comforter to wrap around themselves. 

“My apologies to the Senator,” Tōsen says, “but we need to ensure the safety of the Empire.” 

Byakuya isn’t worried, they’re not so stupid as to keep things they shouldn’t in the quarters. They’re always liable to be searched. Their contraband is stored with their attendants. The attendants rooms have more hidden space than anywhere else, and Renji has full access as Byakuya’s head guard. Thankfully, the rumors about Renji and Byakuya will prevent the attendants rooms from being searched as well. As far as anyone is concerned Renji lives out of Byakuya’s rooms. 

Renji buries his head in Byakuya’s shoulder to hide his annoyance with the situation, mutters, “he asked to marry you, huh?” 

Byakuya rolls his eyes and keeps a glare leveled at Tōsen, even if the man can’t see it to acknowledge it. He uses the Force to see, which is just enough to draw conclusions about the position Renji and Byakuya were in. 

Thirty minutes later, all of Byakuya’s drawers dumped on the floor and his entire closet dumped out, Tōsen bows his head to him. 

“I apologize for the invasiveness of this search,” he says, and he really makes it sound like he doesn’t care. “You have passed, however, and I will report back to the Supreme Chancellor and the Vice Chair.”

“Leave now,” Byakuya growls, fingers tightening in the fabric of Renji’s jacket. It’s been long enough that Renji’s weight has started to leave Byakuya numb, and he would like to get up and clean the mess they’ve made of his quarters. 

⚀⚀⚀

“Sorry to interrupt,” Aizen says, intervening between Byakuya and the diplomat he was about to shake hands with. “May I steal King Kuchiki for a second?”

The diplomat shrugs, steps away from the two of them. 

“I would like to offer my apologies for what happened last night,” Aizen sighs, hand clasping Byakuya’s to lift to his mouth. “I was not aware of how Tōsen would handle the search, and if I had known he was going to put you into an uncomfortable situation I would not have allowed it.”

“We are still trying to put my room back together,” Byakuya says, without hiding his annoyance. Aizen must take it as some kind of win, his lips quirking at the edges. 

“I would like to have dinner with you tonight,” Aizen says, “to make up for the bruise and for the search.” 

Renji had left earlier to go try and reach out to his contacts. Byakuya wishes badly that he was still around so he could get out of this.

“Fine,” Byakuya relents. “I will have dinner with you.”

⚀⚀⚀

“I was not aware,” Aizen starts when Byakuya sits at the table with him. “That you and your guard had that kind of relationship.”

“Just because I am not willing to marry him does not mean I will not indulge.” 

The idea of it actually makes Byakuya want to vomit, but it’s good for people to think he and Renji have some affair going on. Normally, Byakuya would tiptoe around it more, but he’s tired of Aizen’s questions. 

Aizen hums, evidently he has already ordered for them. Fine then. 

“I was wondering,” Byakuya says, picks at his lip for a second in an emulation of Renji’s nervous habits. “I was hoping to return back to Naboo once the senate session finishes. I understand if you are reluctant to allow me to go off planet, however. How long am I needed to stay until I’ve proved my loyalty?”

The senate session was due to expire in the next three days, and then everyone would jettison back to their home planets. Byakuya figures it will take at least three weeks for Aizen to let him go. 

“I have not yet determined the amount of time,” Aizen says simply, and then launches into a story about his day. Byakuya has never felt so put out before.

⚀⚀⚀

Aizen continues to interrupt Byakuya’s work for the next three days, and then for three weeks after that he insists on meeting with Byakuya at least once everyday. Ostensibly, he’s just trying to woo him. In reality, Byakuya can feel the drain of keeping his shroud up under such intense questioning and contact. He’s really not quite sure how much longer he can continue. He’s taken to wearing the facepaint everyday to hide how ragged he’s getting. Even Renji has begun to get worried about him, thumb dragging across the purple circles under Byakuya’s eyes when he helps remove the makeup. 

“I’ve reached out to some people,” Renji whispers one night, Byakuya pulled against his chest. “I think I can get us off the planet.”

“Where will we go, though?” Byakuya sighs, can barely keep his eyes open.

“Anywhere is better than here,” Renji snaps, lets out a harsh breath and smooths a soothing hand across Byakuya’s hair. “Sorry, I’m just worried. You can’t keep doing this. We need to leave.”

“I’ll ask about us going back to Naboo, I’ve brought it up before.” 

“They said they could be here in two weeks, they’re on a job right now. If we give them the word they’ll come get us as soon as they can.”

“Let me try asking first,” Byakuya murmurs, trailing off a little at the end. 

“Fine,” Renji says petulantly, pulls Byakuya so he’s crushed against the younger man.

⚀⚀⚀

“Byakuya,” his head attendant murmurs, “are you feeling okay?”

He smiles at her, closes his eyes so she can paint on his makeup. “I’m fine, just homesick.”

“Of course,” she sighs, “you’ve been here for so long. We’re running out of outfits for you.”

“I’m going to try and see if we will be allowed back soon,” he mumbles, tries to speak without messing up her work. 

Renji is talking to someone at the door, hushed and quick. When the door slides shut, he comes into the room with a package. 

“Suì-Fēng stopped by,” he says, sits on the bed and waits for Byakuya’s makeup to be done.

When the attendants file out of the room, Renji hands over the package in his hands. “She said to open this with no one around.”

There’s no identifiers on the box, and when Byakuya shakes it it doesn’t make any noise. Opening it, there’s a single postcard, on the front is a picture of the galaxy, with several planets scribbled over. It takes him a second to realize it’s a cypher, but once he does the scribbles on the back make a little more sense. 

_ Byakuya, _

_ We are safe. I can’t say the same for you. Get out now, before you get run into the ground. Come to Hoth. From there you will be redirected.  _

It must be from Jūshirō, or maybe Shunsui. Byakuya immediately rips it into as many pieces as he can, then dumps them into the toilet. 

“What was it?” Renji asks, following him around. 

“Call your friends, we need to get off planet,” Byakuya says, “ask if they would consider coming quicker.”

⚀⚀⚀

“I would like to go back to Naboo,” Byakuya says, at his daily dinner with Aizen. “There has been some political fallout after the mess with Rukia and Jūshirō. It is necessary for me to go back home and deal with it.”

Aizen is silent for awhile, the only sound being his knife on his plate and the clink of his fork. Byakuya sips languidly at the wine he was given.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Aizen asks, glancing up while he cuts some of the meat on his plate. 

“I don’t understand why I can’t go back home,” Byakuya says, dances around the question to get his own answer. 

“Anyone besides me would have killed you the moment Jūshirō and Shunsui fled. Maybe they would overlook Rukia’s crime, but you’re an idiot if you think I can’t see what’s going on.” 

Byakuya sets his wine glass down, stands up. “I have done everything you have asked, yet you keep me imprisoned on this planet instead of where I’m needed. What use do I have sitting here if I lose power on my own planet?” 

Aizen sneers, “are you even listening? You haven’t done anything to prove your loyalty. All you’ve done is sit and look pretty, pout your lips and flutter your eyelashes at me. Your knight in shining armor always interrupts before you have to really do anything.”

“Fuck you,” Byakuya’s lip curls at the implication, “I’m not some cheap whore.”

“Yeah? So you’ll fuck your barely adult guard before you’ll fuck me?” Aizen stands now also, the guards at the doors moving forward towards them. Of all the ridiculous, stupid lies Byakuya told, why is the affair with Renji the one with the most traction. Really, it just makes Byakuya look bad. 

Before Byakuya can open his mouth and spit something terrible and ill-advised, Gin is there, an arm around Byakuya’s shoulders. 

“Sir,” Gin says, smile ever present. “Allow me to take a walk with him?”

Aizen huffs, sits back down at his seat. “Whatever, just get him out of my sight.”

Leading Byakuya out, Gin takes a long route around the senate building, until they’re three levels up and two sections over. It’s a random spot, in a random hallway, where nobody else is. 

“You’re playing with fire,” Gin laughs, taking a step away from Byakuya. “He’s just keeping you around until you agree to be his trophy wife.”

Byakuya’s lip curls again, and he takes a step back. “I need to go back to Naboo.”

“It’s not going to happen,” Gin says, softer now. “Not until you agree to marry him.”

“That’s not happening,” Byakuya says, levelly. “I haven’t even addressed my court. It’s not right.”

“Stop it,” Gin sighs, leans against the wall. “Stop with the bullshit. You want to go to Naboo so you can escape from there where we can’t find you.”

“Don’t make claims you can’t prove,” Byakuya says primly, turning to walk away. 

“You can’t get out of this until you either marry him, or you reveal your power.”

“I’m not marrying, and I don’t have any power,” he says, still turned away.

“Think of your padawan,” Gin croons, “your poor padawan who will have to watch as Aizen chokes you to death because you refuse to show your hand.”

“Enough,” Byakuya grits out.

“Once you’ve been reduced to just a corpse, Aizen will kill him too. He’s been jealous, that’s why he lashes out. Just wait until he finds out how much power you’ve been hiding from him.”

Anger has always been Byakuya’s downfall. He has vague memories of his grandfather scolding him for throwing too many temper tantrums, getting too angry, not controlling his outbursts. That was something Jūshirō had to work with him on for a long time. His power surges when he’s angry, so he needs to work on keeping the anger down. He can feel it, he just can’t let it unbalance him. 

Gin’s words nearly push his already weak shroud fully away, his anger boiling over finally. He’s sat like a doll for weeks, listening to Aizen compliment his gowns and compliment his jewels and touch him. He’s been politicking for days on end, his only break when he gets to go back to his room and sleep. It makes Byakuya’s headache to pull his power close to himself again, hide his Force sensitivity deep within. Gin laughs, immediately, the second Byakuya locks his shroud again.

“Be careful,” he says, into Byakuya’s ear, and then he leaves Byakuya to his own devices. 

It takes time to make it back to his quarters, but he’s still earlier than usual. Early enough that Renji hasn’t made it back from wherever he goes to contact his friends. 

Admittedly, Byakuya isn’t afraid to die. He hasn’t been afraid since his father was killed in front of him, since he watched his wife wither away from illness. He’s lost so much, death is hardly something he’s not come to terms with. He’s scared to inflict death on Renji, Rukia, Jūshirō, Shunsui. Well, he doesn’t want to inflict  _ his _ death on them. Renji would be lost without him, and that’s not an exaggeration. Rukia and he fought the last time they talked, but she still means the world to him. He’s still her older brother. He did everything for her. Jūshirō and Shunsui would lose their child, essentially. It’s sobering, for Byakuya to realize this. To realize he doesn’t want to die. 

Aizen wants to force this marriage issue because it’s a weakness. He’s been testing Byakuya ever since he’s been left alone on Coruscant. If he keeps pushing, Byakuya is forced to accept or decline, he’s trying to force emotion. Trying to force his power to leak. It’s obvious. He probably doesn’t really care that much about marrying Byakuya, but it’s an easy way to wind him up. Byakuya was so stupid to even bring it up, what would normally shut others up only gives Aizen something to poke. 

He’s still contemplating when Renji comes back.

“Why are you back early?” Renji is on him, immediately, hovering like Byakuya will drop dead right there. “Did something happen?”

“We need to leave, tonight, I don’t think we can wait any longer.”

“They agreed to come next week and get us, can we last that long?”

Seven more days, can Byakuya last that long? He’s really not sure.

“Renji,” Byakuya says his name slowly, turns his words over in his head first. “I almost dropped my shroud tonight.”

“What?” Renji nearly shouts, coming over to grab Byakuya’s shoulders. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m tired, they know how to push my buttons,” Byakuya sighs, “I made Aizen mad tonight. I’d rather be on the run than languishing.”

Renji gulps, and Byakuya can see him rationalizing in his own head. 

“I’m going to get our stuff from the attendants room,” Renji finally says, and Byakuya smiles at him.

“I’ll gather the necessary items here.”

Renji runs off then, slowing to a casual walk once he hits the doorway. 

Only four things are in their stash, their lightsabers and their robes. Jūshirō had gifted them both their own Jedi uniform back when Byakuya took in Renji, and they’ve carefully tended to those robes ever since. The only time they’ve ever been worn was when Byakuya and Renji trained, back on Naboo. It’s almost electrifyingly exciting to think of wearing them to escape, to leave this torture Byakuya has endured. Gin was right when he called Byakuya a prodigy, but Byakuya has carefully kept his powers under wraps. With his political power, what point was there to violence? 

Now, he has been given no other choice. It’s almost liberating. Some part of him was still concerned Jūshirō and Shunsui really do consider him weak, someone to be left behind while they do the actual rebel work. In any case, Byakuya has always trusted his instincts. He needs out, now. He and Renji have pushed the limit of their abilities, and need to get out before they’re too stuck in.

When Renji slides back in, two packages under his arms, Byakuya locks the door and then guides Renji back into the bedroom. Once there, he locks that door as well, and shoves the wardrobe in front of the door.

Renji’s robes consisted of a black undertunic, deep red overtunic and tabard, and a black obi. His trousers are black and loose-fitting, and the boots are black. His robe is nearly black, but edges closer to red in the sunlight. Byakuya’s robes, in contrast, are entirely black. Jūshirō thought he was funny, giving them such sinister looking outfits. It doesn’t matter, in the end, because the Jedi are no longer and Byakuya and Renji are unorthodox Jedi anyway. 

“How do you intend to get us out of here?” Renji asks.

Stepping out onto the balcony, Byakuya glances over the side. Traffic isn’t even moving that fast. 

“You trust me, right?”

Renji glances over too, and immediately grins.

“This is your best idea yet, master.”

Byakuya steps up onto the ledge and waits for Renji to climb up next to him. “Aim for the speeder coming from the left with its dome open,” he murmurs, eyeing the vehicle in question. 

In the next second, they’re both slamming into the backseat of some poor Coruscant citizen’s speeder. The driver shrieks, and nearly veers off into oncoming traffic. Byakuya doesn’t bother to shroud his connection anymore, and Renji’s shedding of his own shrouding warms something in Byakuya. Like a connection just got remade and slid back into place.

“Relax,” Renji sing-songs, leaning into the drivers space, “we’re just along for the ride.”

“Take us to one of the lower level docks, please.” Byakuya demands, yanking the hood of his cloak up to cover his head. He yanks Renji’s up as well, though his ridiculous ponytail gets in the way. 

It’s almost laughably easy to get away from the senate building, enough to make even Byakuya giddy. Their disappearance probably won’t be found out immediately, unless someone decides to try and get into their room. Worst case scenario, they have a thirty minute head start. Best case, they have at least a day head start.

Byakuya hands money over to their driver when they disboard at the entrance to the lower levels of Coruscant, apologizes for their abrupt entry. 

“We’re just gonna hide out, then?” Renji asks, reaching into the hood of his cloak to undo his ponytail. 

“Seven days is not enough time to search the underworld,” Byakuya says, waves his hand by the card sensor to the lower levels and flexes the Force just enough to get them through. Renji can’t stop grinning next to him. 

There’s a lot of misconceptions about Byakuya. He is of royal blood, and he is spoiled. He’s lived with Jūshirō and Shunsui for the majority of his life, though. He knows the underworld and how to act in it just as well as anybody else. Shunsui made sure he was never ill-prepared for whatever he was faced with. Coruscant is no different than other planets Byakuya has wandered, and he leads Renji down to the 1300 levels. Deep enough to hide but not so deep that they’re fighting for their lives. 

“Will you tell me what happened?” Renji asks quietly once they find a cantina to rest in. 

Observing his drink, Byakuya sighs. “Did you know Aizen was jealous of you?”

Renji makes a ridiculous noise and splutters his confusion. Byakuya can’t help but smile at the display.

“The room search really did not look good for us, especially so close to the marriage talk,” Byakuya shrugs. “I didn’t discourage Aizen from his assumptions. It was funny.”

Advantageous in many ways, as well. Aizen couldn’t hold all the power if he thought Byakuya was having an illicit affair every night that he preferred over anyone else. 

“Gross,” Renji huffs. “You’re way too old for me.”

“That’s what Aizen said, also,” Byakuya nods. 

Scowling, Renji shakes his head. “He’s so annoying. Hey, do you want to know about the people coming to pick us up?”

“Fine,” Byakuya says, settles back into the booth they’re in. 

“When you found me I had just gotten kicked off their ship,” Renji starts, and this already doesn’t sound promising. “Before you make any assumptions, I was fourteen and deserved it.”

“I’m sure,” Byakuya says dryly. 

“Anyway, I was originally picked up by Ikkaku Madarame, this was before you found Rukia, by the way. She was gallivanting around with some rebel society or something. Ikkaku picked me up and hired me onto the ship he was working on. It was called the Yarrow, and actually it wasn’t too bad. Last time I was on board it was only Ikkaku and his partner Yumichika Ayasegawa and their captain Kenpachi Zaraki.”

“What do they do?” 

“Um…” Renji hesitates. “Well, they just do odd jobs. You know.”

“Oh,” Byakuya says. “Smugglers, then. Why’d you get kicked off?”

“I was just a brat. Didn’t follow orders correctly and made things harder on them. To be honest I think they’ve calmed down some in the last few years. They seemed happy to have me back.”

“Will they take us where we need to go?”

Renji looks sheepish then. “I haven’t really brought up that we need to go to Hoth, I think they think we’re just going to join their crew.”

“Renji,” Byakuya sighs. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine! We need to make sure the Empire isn’t on our ass, anyway.”

“Anything I should know about them?”

Renji thinks for a bit, staring into his drink. “It’s been pretty long since I’ve seen them, but they’re intense.”

“Intense?”

“Ikkaku was kind of a mentor to me before you, they do a lot of fighting. Kenpachi runs in some of the arena circuits. Yumichika and Ikkaku didn’t mention themselves doing it but I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“I thought they were smugglers?” 

“They are! On the Outer Rim there are fighting arena circuits though, that’s how Kenpachi got his name. Number one in all the arenas. They bounce between the different arenas and do jobs in between to keep the money flowing.”

“Interesting,” Byakuya muses, adjusts his plans. It would be ideal to get to Hoth as soon as possible, but Renji is right in thinking they need time to let the Empire stop looking for them. Smuggling would be fun, fighting arenas less so. Smuggling is easy enough for Byakuya, having to fight would be annoying. Not good for keeping his head down, anyway. 

⚀⚀⚀

It takes three days before Byakuya and Renji’s faces are plastered across Coruscant. The signs say  _ dangerous rebel criminals _ and  _ do not approach _ . How flattering. Gin must have told Aizen about Byakuya’s power slip. Or maybe they figured out how the two of them slipped away. The signs mean they know they haven’t left the planet yet, no surprise given Aizen’s purported mastery of the Force. If Byakuya focuses enough, he can sense Aizen and Gin’s Force connection on the planet, though it isn’t enough to give a location. Likely, the other two are doing the same to them. 

They’re deep in the 1300s though, Imperial police rarely come this low, and even if they did it’s not hard to avoid them. Renji and Byakuya have been going back and forth between a couple hundred levels, getting food and drink from a higher level and then venturing down lower to hide. 

“Where are they planning to pick us up?” Byakuya whispers, their backs shoved against the cold wall of a warehouse. 

“Not the top,” Renji whispers back. “Landing pad to level 3321. They have some connections there that should allow us enough time to sneak past the guards and onto the ship.”

The higher levels were risky, and Byakuya figured by tomorrow they should start moving upwards, it’d be easier to hide here, but better to take their time moving upwards to avoid any police. 

Moving upwards is easier said than done, it turns out. They had no problems moving around the 1000s, of course, because no enforcement existed. Day five sees them stuck in the 2000s. 

“They have more checkpoints, now.” Renji mutters, sliding into the booth Byakuya is hunched over in. “I’m not sure if even our mind tricks can do anything to help.”

“Are they searching people?” 

“Taking hoods down, at the least,” Renji confirms, slumping back. 

“Maybe we should incite a riot,” Byakuya ponders, trying to figure a way to get up higher. “There must be a way around the checkpoints.”

If only Renji didn’t have the universe’s most recognizable face tattoos. Maybe then sneaking by would be an option. As it is, it’s looking like they’ll need to get a little deeper into the underworld. Byakuya and Renji wander for awhile, watch the movements of others. It’s not looking so hot for them. 

“Would it really be so bad if we fought our way out of here?” Renji asks, a few hours later.

“It’s not the Jedi way,” Byakuya mumbles, but, well. It’s not looking like the worst idea they have. 

They sit for a few minutes, and then Byakuya decides on their plan. 

“We’re going straight through,” Byakuya says, drags Renji up and leads him to the checkpoint.

“Oh? Violence is the answer?”

“We’ll see what I can get away with, first.”

Byakuya waits to integrate themselves into a large crowd, shifts them to the middle. The checkpoint acts, effectively, as a bottleneck and whittles crowds down into smaller groups. If all goes well, this crowd will be thick enough to keep them secure. If not, Byakuya will try his mind tricks. If that fails, their lightsabers are comfortingly sitting on their hips. 

This really is not the Jedi way, but Jūshirō and Shunsui never taught Byakuya to be a traditional Jedi. The Sith are poisoned by their want of power, not their emotions. Greed will make anyone strive for more power. Byakuya has no need for that. He was blessed with all the power he could ever want. 

Instead of letting their hood get knocked down, Byakuya says, “We are not the fugitives.” The slightest wave of his hand and the officer merely lifts the hoods enough to get a look, nodding and letting them pass.

There, only however many checkpoints left until level 3321.

“Will that work everytime?” Renji mumbles, stepping in close to Byakuya.

“We can only hope.”

It goes wrong twenty checkpoints later, on level 2256. 

First, there isn’t enough of a crowd for them to hide in. Second, Renji’s cloak is stepped on, hard enough for it to drag open at the front, the lightsaber on his hip in full view of the officers in front of them.

“Oh kriffing hell,” Byakuya mutters, grabs onto the front of Renji’s tabard and drags him forward into a run. The officers shout and point, pull blasters out to aim at them. Byakuya’s hood stays stubbornly fixed on his head, at the least, even if Renji is desperately trying to pull his back up. 

“Be ready,” Byakuya calls, letting go of Renji and reaching into the folds of his cloak for his own lightsaber. 

Renji’s face has morphed into a grin, no doubt excited for some action. Byakuya will need to scold him later, he relishes the fight too much. 

“Halt!” An officer calls, stepping out in front of them, Byakuya doesn’t even slow down. In fact, the two of them run straight through the checkpoint. It’s only after they’ve gotten through that the officers start firing. By then, Byakuya and Renji are too far out of range to need to deflect anything.

“They’re slow!” Renji laughs, keeps up with Byakuya as he runs them out of sight of the checkpoint and the officers now taking chase.

“Lets just take a shortcut,” Byakuya says, and cuts across the level with Renji to get to the dock. “Enough with this checkpoint business, we have two days to let the storm we cause cool.”

Out of the two of them, Renji is the pilot. Byakuya isn’t bad, but Renji is  _ good _ . Nearly enough to make a new career out of it. Renji doesn’t talk much about his past, but Byakuya figures he took on a lot of piloting jobs in his youth. Rukia has hinted as much, and he has enough prowess to outshine Byakuya’s classical training. 

“Find one you can take,” Byakuya says when they get to the docking station, letting Renji take the lead as he peers into the speeders around them. In the hole like this, Byakuya can see the lights of officers cresting the top and heading down towards them. No one is idiotic enough to go straight down, though Byakuya and Renji are idiotic enough to go straight  _ up _ .

“Byakuya!” Renji calls, hopping into an orange speeder that has two seats. It’s still on, and Byakuya can hear someone shout out in alarm from further down the dock. Jumping in with him, Renji waits just long enough for Byakuya’s ass to make contact with the seat and then he’s pulling the nose straight up and hitting the gas. 

Byakuya stays in the speeder only by using the Force to keep his body from being flung out and one hand clenching onto the seat belt he hasn’t had time to draw over his lap. Renji is full out cackling now, and Byakuya’s cloak hood gets thrown back. The G-force is only tolerable due to the fact they’re Jedi, Byakuya thinks, and even then his head is stuck to the back of the seat. 

“How do I know what level is which,” Renji shouts above the air rushing past them, the blare of sirens starting to get closer as they rush up to meet them. 

“You need to look at the platforms,” Byakuya shouts back, turns his head so he can try and spot the platforms rushing by. “Slow down!”

“Relax, will you,” Renji says, the giggle in his voice making it wobble. “I’ve got this under control!”

Reaching out, Byakuya hits buttons on the front of the speeder. After some scrambling, he manages to find the one that shows their location. Near level 3000. 

“We’re gonna be coming in hot,” Renji hollers at the same time a police speeder  _ whooshes _ by them. “Think they’re coming after us?”

The blaster fire that rocks the speeder seconds after that answers his question. There’s nothing they can do about it, though, seeing as they’re still vertical and going fast enough to make Byakuya’s ears pop. It’s fast enough that most of the shots coming at them miss, though Byakuya can occasionally feel the heat of one passing close by.

Renji levels them out horizontal when they approach level 3321, enough for Byakuya to pull the blaster out of Renji’s hip holster and start taking pot shots at the police coming towards them. 

“Hold on to something!” Renji shouts, and then docks the speeder by driving full speed into the bay doors. 

“You’re out of your mind,” Byakuya yells, hopping out onto the dock and shooting at incoming officers again. 

Grabbing onto Byakuya’s cloak, Renji leads him out into level 3321. It’s fairly clean here and looks like a respectable city. Maybe two days won’t be enough for all of this to cool off. They both pull up their cloak hoods when they get far enough into the crowd that the officers are struggling to pursue, and start dipping through alleys and crossing the level. It’s not too hard to disappear, after all, and they end up bouncing between clubs and cantina’s. 

It turns out, of course, that two days are not enough for their ruckus to cool off. Crushed into a holo-booth together, they wince when Ikkaku Madarame shouts, “what did you do! The whole ship got searched before we could even undock the mini, and now they’re saying you’re a fugitive who kidnapped some King.”

“That’s what they’re saying? That I kidnapped him?” Renji’s nose is scrunched in distaste. “That’s so rude.”

“We didn’t realize this was some kind of Imperial crime, picking you and your friend up.”

“Renji,” Byakuya scolds, immediately.

“Everyone stop yelling at me!” Renji says. He points a finger at Byakuya, “I got us a ride didn’t I,” and then points at the holo form of Ikkaku, “you commit Imperial crimes all the time, this is nothing!”

“Not on this magnitude!” Ikkaku argues, voice pitching. “You could have at least warned us!”

“You probably like the challenge,” Renji huffs, crosses his arms even though his elbow presses Byakuya into the wall further. “This will be the most fun you’ll have in awhile, I bet.”

Ikkaku frowns, but doesn’t dignify that with a response. 

“Is Yumichika picking us up?” Renji asks, shoulders relaxing somewhat. 

“Yes, he’s coming to you two though. Don’t show your faces anywhere near that dock until he comes and gets you.”

“We weren’t going to!” Renji nearly shouts, quieting when Byakuya hisses at the noise level. 

“Is that guy really a King,” Ikkaku whispers, like Byakuya wouldn’t be able to hear him.

“Maybe not anymore,” Byakuya muses, and Renji shrugs. 

⚀⚀⚀

Yumichika is rather short, even shorter than Byakuya, though he makes up for whatever height he lacks by being audacious as hell. His hair is cut into a bob, but he has one long piece at the front that’s braided. Feathers stick out from behind his ears, orange and blue. He’s pretty, seriously pretty. Enough for even Byakuya to look twice. Standing on his tiptoes to get his arms around Renji’s neck, he embraces Renji warmly. He has tight brown pants with thigh high boots, and wears a black leather jacket with a purple shirt underneath. He has a variety of weapons belted onto himself, at least two holsters on his chest, two on his left leg and one on his right, though these are the only ones immediately visible. 

Pulling back, Yumichika shifts Renji’s cloak and flicks his lightsaber. “This is new! You weren’t going to tell us?”

Sheepish grin in place, Renji shrugs. “When I first called we were still keeping a low profile.”

“Ha! You certainly aren’t doing that now!” He laughs, then turns to Byakuya and offers his hand. “Your majesty.”

“You don’t need to say that,” Byakuya says cooly, though he shakes the hand.

“This is my master, Byakuya Kuchiki,” Renji says, “Byakuya, this is Yumichika Ayasegawa.”

Yumichika pouts, “no special identifiers for me? I taught this stupid kid how to fly.”

“Ikkaku did too,” Renji grouses, though he looks fond. 

“Psh,” Yumichika waves his hand. He starts leading them back through the level, eyes watchful of the people around them. “Ikkaku learned how to fly from  _ me _ , so if you learned anything from him it was still my teaching. I’m the better pilot between the two of us. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Byakuya. I heard you picked Renji up after we dropped him on the curb?”

“Yes,” Byakuya says, trailing behind the shorter man.

Yumichika glances at him when he doesn’t follow that up, but doesn’t push for more. 

“Put your cloaks up,” Yumichika orders, then leads them across to the docks. Some lingering droids beep at them urgently, but Yumichika glares at them until they mind their own business. Officers are bustling around, but Yumichika seems to have enough clout that he’s given a wide berth.

The small ship they’re lead to is grey, but has stripes the same shade of purple as Yumichika’s shirt. It has enough space for exactly three seats, and not much else. There’s some compartments along the sides, but they bump against the side of the seats. Yumichika waits for them to settle before he pulls back from the dock, and then he turns in his chair to eye them. 

“They’re playing video of your joy ride to level 3321 all over the upper levels, if you didn’t know.” Yumichika grins, and there’s laughter in his voice. “I’m pretty sure I never taught you to do that.”

Renji laughs, hard. “We needed to ascend as fast as we could, and there’s not much space in this hole, that was the best option!”

“I’m glad to see you’re as reckless as ever,” Yumichika sighs, turns his attention to Byakuya. “I’m surprised you haven’t trained it out of him.”

“He’s set in his ways,” Byakuya says wistfully, his tone makes Yumichika’s grin go up a notch. 

“Hey,” Renji defends himself, “it got us where we needed, right? It’s not like anyone on the Yarrow is any better than me.”

“Don’t be that way,” Yumichika says, reaches to pinch Renji’s cheek. “Kenpachi has cooled down a lot, you’ll see. He has a kid now.”

“He has a kid!?” Renji nearly shouts, leaning forward.

“We found her and she was endearing, you were there once.”

“He never said I was his kid, though,” Renji mutters.

“Because you’re more me and Ikkaku’s, obviously,” Yumichika rolls his eyes. “Yachiru adores him, you were scared of him.”

Byakuya can’t even imagine what this Kenpachi Zaraki looks like, the way they’re talking about him. Ikkaku and Yumichika seem to be around his own age, if not a little older, and both are fairly gaudy. On the holo-picture Ikkaku was clearly bald, but there was makeup of some kind around his eyes, and he had black robes on with a tight belt around the waist to cinch it in. He hadn’t seemed massively tall, either. 

Yumichika and Renji catch up a little, Byakuya only half-listening. The Yarrow isn’t a large ship, that much is obvious, but it seems to be in good condition. It’s all grey with purple trimming, and it’s docked in the pleasure district. Probably more discrete to be here, more privacy afforded. 

When they dock back to the ship, the first person to greet them is a small girl. Her hair is pink, and she is  _ young _ . When Yumichika said there was a kid, Byakuya was thinking more along the lines of Renji’s age when Byakuya picked him up. 

Yumichika sweeps her up onto his hip, then points at Renji and Byakuya. “Yachiru, this is Renji and Byakuya, they’ll be joining up with us.”

“You look scary,” she comments, eyes on Renji’s tattoos and hair. Byakuya laughs, immediately. 

“Hey,” he protests, hand coming up to stroke his forehead tattoo. “This signifies how strong I am.”

“You’re pretty,” she says, ignoring Renji’s protest and moving on to Byakuya. He smiles politely and offers his hand. 

“So are you.”

Giggling, she shakes hands with him. After these brief introductions, she wiggles until Yumichika puts her down. She climbs up the ladder and hollers to someone, and they can hear her feet pound away across the ship. 

“She’s young and mean,” Yumichika shrugs and waves for them to follow him up the ladder. The ladder takes them into a hold, and it’s spacious enough for all of them to have plenty of room. Not bad. Ikkaku meets them then, and he stands around the same height as Byakuya. 

He’s not as showy as Yumichika, sure, but he has red applied by his eyes and his outfit is almost risque with how he’s wearing it, the top loose enough he needs to drag it back up his shoulder every so often. 

Renji hugs him, but it’s not quite as touchy as Yumichika’s hug. 

“Ikkaku, this is my master, Byakuya,” Renji gestures between them, and Byakuya shakes the offered hand.

“Fleeing from the Empire, huh?” Ikkaku says.

“It was necessary,” Byakuya shrugs. “We were risking discovery.”

“I thought all the Jedi died,” another voice rumbles, and the tallest man Byakuya has ever seen is standing in the threshold to the rest of the ship. Yachiru is tugging on his hand, trying to drag him closer to the new occupants. 

This must be Kenpachi, Byakuya thinks. It’s no wonder he’s picked up that name, with how tall he is. He’s wide, too, has to stand at an angle in the hallway so his shoulders can fit. It’s almost enough to make Byakuya’s knees shake, if he wasn’t stronger. His aura is crazy, force sensitive to a degree Byakuya can nearly see the power around him. His hair is inky black and long, though it’s obviously thick and there’s a haphazard variety of lengths going on to give him a wild look. It flows down his back, away from his face. He’s tanned, and there’s a scar that bisects his face, starting at his hairline and running straight down through his left eye and ending at his chin. He has an elaborately decorated eyepatch over his right eye.

“Some survived,” Byakuya says, plainly. “We’re hiding.”

“Not very well,” Kenpachi laughs, “everyone knows about you now.”

“He’s so pretty,” Yachiru shout-whispers. 

Byakuya can’t help the red that rises in his cheeks.


	2. in the flat field

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re unusually connected to the Force,” Jūshirō grumbled, fingers buried in Byakuya’s hair. They’re sprawled out in a field of flowers on Naboo, taking a break from their training. Byakuya only twelve, Jūshirō twenty-nine, already well-established as a senator in the Empire. He’d officially taken in Byakuya, even when the court in Naboo protested that someone from their own planet should be caring for the Prince. 
> 
> One eye opened to peek up at the older man, Byakuya asked, “really?”
> 
> “Just like your father,” Jūshirō smiled, Byakuya’s cheek pinched between his fingers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the unholy fusion chapter 2 where i destroy star wars AND bleach canon

Kenpachi fights like nothing Byakuya has seen before. He’s large, but still quick, powerful, but still graceful. His Force sensitivity seems to concentrate into his fists, making his punch improbably stronger. It concentrates in his feet, also, gives him more agility, more power in his launch. It’s ridiculous, no Jedi would ever fight like this, but, but, Byakuya is _intrigued_. He wants to feel that power, wants to dodge a punch moving quicker than any human punch. He wants to figure it out. Fighting Renji is getting boring, the man is always two steps behind Byakuya--

Byakuya takes a deep breath, settles back into the painful rigidity of the Dantooine stadium seat. Renji has his eyes narrowed at him, like he’s figuring something out. Byakuya keeps his interest off his face. Yachiru stands next to them, one of Ikkaku’s hands firmly grasping the back of her shirt to keep her from crawling right into the arena. 

Kenpachi grins from his place in the arena, the flash of sunlight off his teeth distracting. The match is just finishing up, leaving him to proudly flex over the prone body of his opponent. He’s peculiar in that he doesn’t bother killing those he wins against, something of a great shame to the people who come to face him. He says, “come back when you’re actually strong,” and sends them back to their seats bruised and bloodied. This fight had been one of his more entertaining, the opponent smart enough to know they weren’t stronger than Kenpachi. He still won, in the end, but it took a little longer than usual. 

He comes lumbering back to the stands, pulling himself up and into the seats. This is also typical, for Dantooine, anyway. Byakuya and Renji have witnessed three arenas worth of fighting now, and in Dantooine they have the least accommodations for being with the Arena Winner. 

Yachiru shouts a jumbled mix of encouragement and adoration at Kenpachi as he steps towards them, Yumichika laughing on Ikkaku’s other side as Ikkaku makes hushing noises. 

This is fairly par the course, as well, even if it’s more public than usual. She gets swung into Kenpachi’s arms as soon as he reaches them, the stadium starting to empty out with the end of the last match.

“Good as usual,” Ikkaku says, kicking his feet up and tilting his head back to meet Kenpachi’s eyes. 

“Nobody here is ever worth the trip,” Kenpachi sighs, though it comes out slightly muffled due to Yachiru aggressively pressing her cheek to his.

“Now is as good a time as ever to see you two fight, you know,” Yumichika simpers, tapping his cheek innocently and turning to face the two Jedi. Byakuya can see the gleam in his eyes, an undercurrent of interest and calculation. 

They’ve been trying to see them in action ever since they joined the crew, but Byakuya is hardly interested in indulging their bizarre fondness for fighting. Renji is practically chomping at the bit next to him for it, but they’re _Jedi_ , it’s not the Way. Fighting should be the last resort. A fight is not something you should enjoy and crave. That craving leads to nothing good, just one more slippery slope they need to be careful with. Jūshirō and Shunsui wouldn’t bend to this rowdy crew, would keep their heads on. Surely. 

Even if Byakuya was tempted. He just wanted some variety, he’s a Jedi master with hardly any experience after all. Jūshirō always told him that a good Jedi should never have to prove their prowess with their light blade, that their words and leadership would simply be enough.

(Nevermind the twinge in Byakuya’s head that tells him Rukia must have never received this lecture, and isn’t that peculiar? She would certainly follow anything Jūshirō told her, and she would never be so reckless without his express permission…)

“No thanks,” Byakuya says. Renji deflates next to him.

“Aw, c’mon,” Yumichika whines. “At least let us fight Renji again.”

Renji is his own man, actually, Byakuya has never forbidden Renji from doing anything. He just follows Byakuya’s lead. 

“That’s up to him, not me.”

In the next second Renji’s standing and popping his fingers. “I’d like to fight one of you again.” Ah, all he needed was a little push to realize he’s no longer a padawan _really._ If this was back in the day, before the massacre, he would probably be a Knight, at this point.

Yumichika stands as well, grin nearly stretching across his entire face with his glee. Ikkaku moves into sitting properly, eyes darting between the two of them. 

Byakuya hasn’t yet seen Yumichika fight, something about Ikkaku and Yumichika refraining from the circuit until they get to the later planets. He’s a rather small and lithe man, resembling Byakuya’s build more than Ikkaku or Kenpachi’s. He’s given almost no real indication of how he fights, and he seems to have a variety of weapons on him at any given time. 

“Weapons?” Yumichika inquires, shrugging off his jacket and revealing the two blasters holstered onto his sides along with the two knives on his back. The rest of them drift down to hover near the edge of the arena, Kenpachi’s eyes sweeping critically over the rest of the people still lingering in the arena. Byakuya does it as well, notices a few too many eyes on them.

“No weapons,” Byakuya calls, Renji obediently hiding his lightsaber with his cloak when he pulls his outer layer off. 

“No fun,” Yumichika says, but he sheds his arsenal easily. 

Renji undresses down to just his undertunic and pants, tattoos out and contrasting nicely with his skin tone. Yumichika is still grinning, lowering into stance and raising his hands. Truthfully, the Jedi have never trained too hard in hand-to-hand combat, the only reason Byakuya has any skill at all is thanks to Yoruichi, who thought the Jedi were weak without actual fighting skills. 

She always used to, proudly, say Byakuya was her best student. 

Anyway, Renji’s particularly stubborn to learning anything new about things he thinks he’s fine on. Fighting is one of those things, even when Byakuya is routinely kicking his ass and escaping his grapples. Renji _is_ good at fighting, if not better than Byakuya. Considering the similarity between Yumichika and Renji’s stances, it wouldn’t be surprising if this is where Renji learned everything he knows.

Yumichika moves first, aiming a kick to Renji’s stomach. Renji’s quick enough to block it, but not quick enough to grab his ankle before Yumichika is moving in with a follow up punch to his shoulder. He moves with the punch, and directs the opposite elbow towards Yumichika’s face. That’s blocked by a forearm, which leads into Yumichika deflecting the arm and grabbing onto his wrist. 

“No face shots,” Yumichika laughs, yanks Renji’s arm to pull them into even closer quarters, and knees Renji’s stomach. Shaking his arm out of the shorter man’s grip, Renji stumbles back a few steps and grins.

They meet again with Renji kicking out hard towards Yumichika’s calf, the force of it is enough to knock his leg back and unbalance him. Renji takes advantage and drags them both to the ground. Yumichika is quick though, and agile. He squirms away from Renji’s hands on his chest and rolls to get himself back to his feet. Renji is up again quickly, closes the gap between them and they trade a series of hits and blocks. 

They really do fight similarly, even if Renji is obviously trying to make this a grappling fight while Yumichika is trying to stay on his feet. It’s the same thing Renji always tries, which is why Yumichika looks like he’s having fun and Renji’s eyebrows are drawing together with his focus. 

“You haven’t changed much,” Yumichika says, dodging a punch. “Haven’t been listening to your master? You should try and take some pointers for once.”

“This works for me,” Renji pants, manages to get a good hit on Yumichika’s shoulder. 

“Barely,” Kenpachi calls, “if Yumichika was actually trying you would be on the floor.”

“Aw,” Yumichika croons, “don’t tease him!”

Renji snarls, hackles rising like he’s some kind of animal. It makes Yumichika’s smile drop a speck, his eyes narrowing.

They finally do crash to the ground then, Yumichika rolling out of the grapples but Renji keeping him down. What finally ends it is Renji going for an armbar, only for Yumichika to roll through and take the dominant position. From here, Yumichika pulls back and punches straight down next to Renji’s head.

“If this was a real fight,” Yumichika smiles, “you’d be done.”

“Fuck,” Renji says.

“Maybe you aren’t as good as I assumed,” Kenpachi says then, towards Byakuya. 

“He doesn’t take lessons well,” Byakuya says, placidly. “You don’t know anything about how I fight.”

Yachiru is wiggling to get out of Kenpachi’s grasp, once her feet hit the ground she climbs over the wall separating the seats and the arena and runs full force at Yumichika. He’s nearly knocked over by her impact on his legs. 

“Great job, Yun-yun!” She shrieks, loud enough to make Renji cringe away.

He grins, sweeps her into his arms and does a few circles like he’s dancing with her.

“Renji always makes it so easy,” he sings, to her great amusement.

“Let's get going,” Ikkaku calls, “we have to be on Danthomir soon.”

Byakuya waits for Renji to get his stuff together before falling into step with him on the walk back to the ship.

“I always tell you to use the Force more,” Byakuya says.

“You don’t need to rub it in,” he grumbles back.

“Listen for once and I won’t need to keep lecturing you about this.”

Renji’s lip lifts in a sneer, but he looks properly chastised. 

“You should fight them,” he says, once he’s schooled his expression again.

Byakuya hums, offers no comment.

“They really respect good fighters, if you would just…”

“Renji,” Byakuya interrupts. “It’s not the Way, alright?”

He keeps quiet after that, the start of a pout on his face.

⚁⚁⚁

“You’re unusually connected to the Force,” Jūshirō grumbled, fingers buried in Byakuya’s hair. They’re sprawled out in a field of flowers on Naboo, taking a break from their training. Byakuya only twelve, Jūshirō twenty-nine, already well-established as a senator in the Empire. He’d officially taken in Byakuya, even when the court in Naboo protested that someone from their own planet should be caring for the Prince. 

One eye opened to peek up at the older man, Byakuya asked, “really?”

“Just like your father,” Jūshirō smiled, Byakuya’s cheek pinched between his fingers. 

Tongue stuck out to mock, Byakuya jumped back to his feet. “Let’s keep going, Jūshirō! I want to be on his level soon.”

With a laugh, Jūshirō followed him. “Fine, fine.”

At that time, Byakuya did not know what Jūshirō was referring to. It was a year later, when Yoruichi had Byakuya in her claws on Alderaan that Byakuya realized what he meant.

“Stop freaking out,” she grumbled as she dropped to sit on Byakuya’s bed. “Why are you scared?”

Byakuya didn’t know why he was scared, he felt very alone. Yoruichi was not a stranger, but she didn’t provide the kind of comfort he wanted. She was all rough around the edges, less gentle than Byakuya’s other teachers. Even Shunsui handled him like glass, only Yoruichi treated him like he wasn’t something liable to break at the hint of stress. Unfortunately, here he was, breaking at the slightest hint of stress. He doesn’t even know _why_ he’s scared, but he’s alone (without Jūshirō) on a strange planet (without Jūshirō) in a building he has never been in before (without Jūshirō). 

Yoruichi looked at him like she could see through him, through the snotty tears pebbled on his eyelashes, and sighed heavily. “Actually, Jūshirō warned me this might happen.”

Byakuya whimpered at the mention of Jūshirō. Pathetically. Not befitting for a thirteen year old boy. 

“Byakuya-bo,” Yoruichi whispered, scooping him up to sprawl across her lap, face pressed to her neck. “You can still feel him, we’ll meditate and we’ll find his connection.”

“We can?” He asked. He used his sleeve to wipe his nose, Yoruichi frowned at the stain before replying. 

“You can,” she answered, fingers wiping his tears. “You’re connected to the Force differently, you can feel him if you try.”

She made him sit cross-legged, taught him how to meditate most efficiently. 

“For rowdy little girls and boys,” she said, “you need to focus on something that brings you peace. Think about the pretty flowers on Naboo, or the pillows on your bed, something that makes you relax. There’s no point in trying to dig deep and reach for your own peace, you’re too like me. You’ll just reach for whatever else is easy to catch.”

He breathed deeply, followed her instructions. She told him, “once you’ve made it, you’ll know what to do!” Which was not helpful, but once he slid into the headspace he realized she was right. 

Meditating for Byakuya was like tracing down thousands of lines of power. He could see the planet he was on as a ball of lines connected together. Some shot brilliantly off into space, some twisting deeper and deeper into the core. When he let himself fall deeper, he could see the universe. It took time, of course, but he realized then that he could find Jūshirō, his familiar energy and Force ringing like a bell through the lines, louder and louder the closer Byakuya got. 

Five months later, when Jūshirō came back to get him, he smiled at Byakuya’s recounting of the experience. When they’re about to leave, Yoruichi pulls Jūshirō aside outside the ship. Byakuya eavesdropped, because of course he did. 

“He’s really attached to you,” she said, and it was with a hint of concern. He could hear the pitch in her voice suggesting she thought it wasn’t right.

“Yes,” Jūshirō sighed, Byakuya could imagine the hand he would run through his hair after a sigh like that. “I spend almost everyday with him, Yoruichi, he doesn’t have anyone else. He’s bound to be attached.”

She growled, the way she does when Byakuya cheats to hit her. “Jūshirō, you can’t protect him forever, you’ll have to leave eventually. Your cover is weaker than everybody else’s.”

“If it comes to that I’ll take him with me,” Jūshirō said. “What do you expect me to do? Sōjun left him to us, we can’t just abandon him.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Yoruichi argued. “Aren’t most children passed this? He’s getting closer and closer to his coronation. How long can you persuade them to hold it off? He’s not mature enough.”

Ouch! Byakuya wanted to step out there and argue with her himself. 

“He’s not most children,” Jūshirō said, sharper this time. The tone he uses when talking to the court. “Ginrei placed him in the academy when he was still a baby. He barely saw his parents. I’m his first connection. Is it so bad he’s attached? This was our first separation, you can’t judge him on it.”

She sighed, Byakuya heard shuffling like she was moving around. 

“Just, be careful. How long can you really be there for him? He needs to be able to stand on his own.”

⚁⚁⚁

The ship is entirely too small for the amount of people on it now. Byakuya sleeps with Renji half on top of him and then wakes up only to have to shove for elbow space in the refresher and glower hard enough to chase everyone out so he can actually do anything. Yachiru hardly cares and crawls all over everyone with glee, but Kenpachi is obviously getting tired of it. Yumichika has even snarled at everyone a couple times. 

The ship dynamic is...intriguing. Byakuya is quiet and takes up little space, so he’s favored by Ikkaku and Kenpachi. Renji is having some kind of problem with Ikkaku, and hovers around Yumichika. Yumichika does not give a shit about anything. Ikkaku and Yumichika are together, but Ikkaku is trying to avoid Renji (for whatever reason) which leads to him sticking to Kenpachi’s side like glue. Kenpachi is sick of all of them, so he sits on the seats in the common space and threatens anyone who gets close.

Yachiru does whatever she wants, but has taken an _immense_ liking to Byakuya. That means half the time Byakuya finds himself dragged into her room and being commanded to play with her toys with her. The other half of the time she’s following him around and yammering about her life. It’s almost torturous, actually. Byakuya has never been good with little kids. The fact Yachiru plainly does not care about his silence and occasional blunt answer is bewildering.

In a quest to escape the little girl, her massive father who is stinking of anger, the petty squabble happening between Ikkaku and Renji, and whatever other chaos is happening, Byakuya has locked himself into the piloting area with Yumichika.

“Oh,” Yumichika says, a droid beeping insistently behind his seat. “I didn’t know you would be coming up here.”

“I’m going to be meditating,” Byakuya says, shortly. Moves to sit cross-legged in the chair next to Yumichika and steadfastly ignores the eyes on him. At least Yumichika gets the hint, stays quiet and doesn’t interrupt. 

Meditating was not an art that came to Byakuya quickly. When he was younger he had too little Jedi training to be in the correct headspace for it. The Force is slippery and hard to grasp, especially as a young kid with little to no control over his emotions. Even now, with his impeccable control, it’s hard for him to reach out and grab and feel. 

Once he’s made it, can begin to see the Force itself, the connections, he’s not easy to rouse.

The greatest comfort given to Byakuya has always been the seeking of Jūshirō’s Force connection. He’s always been able to sink deep enough to find the other man wherever he is. 

It’s alarming when Byakuya can’t find him.

He sinks deeper into his meditation, sweeps as far as he can. Nothing. Not one hint.

He feels Yoruichi, bassy echoes from some planet across the universe from the _Yarrow_. Kisuke was there too, along with presences Byakuya wasn’t familiar with. Rukia was also on that side of the universe, closer to Yoruichi. Her connection rings sharp and fresh, it reminds Byakuya of clean snow. 

Interestingly, Byakuya can feel a strong presence with her, strong enough that Byakuya could feel it from their place in space, around Danthomir. He could feel the shake of the power through the lines everywhere, frighteningly enough. What kind of people was Rukia running with? 

But Jūshirō, with his bell tone, and Shunsui, with his tinny whine, were nowhere to be found. He looked everywhere, he even felt the darkness of the Sith, around Coruscant, but he still couldn’t find the two people he was looking for. It was near panic inducing, making him look over and over and over. There’s no reason for them to be off the grid. Is there? Did something happen? Byakuya has been gallivanting around in the mid and outer rims for months now! Anything could have happened!

Time passes differently when he’s meditating. Being that deep in the Force tends to warp the perception, and this is certainly the longest time he’s spent meditating. He can feel it in his bones as he sweeps the universe again. The drag of power is starting to hurt, edges getting blurrier and blurrier. He has to find them. He pushes harder, focuses on where Yoruichi is. It’s too hard to focus on Rukia, the person with her makes his head pound. At least Kisuke’s connection is a more soothing hum of electricity. 

The connections around them don’t ring anywhere near similar to Jūshirō or Shunsui.

Opening his eyes and falling out of the Force is painful. He was in too long. The first thing that registers is he’s on a bed, and the second thing that registers is the panic rolling in his chest. The lights are blissfully off, and the room is silent. They must have landed, the ship isn’t humming the way it normally would if they were still flying. 

Days, then? Renji must be panicking. Byakuya’s panicking too, better to stay here and think than go run Renji into a frenzy.

Logically, it can’t be anything too shockingly terrible. He would _know_ if Jūshirō or Shunsui died. He knows he would. Some way or another, he would know if one of them passed. The Force would tell him, at the very least. He would feel their passing. They must be hiding. From who? Where? Hoth? It’s hard for Byakuya to pinpoint locations, he knows the rebels are on the other side of the core, but that’s as exact as he can get. 

A small part of him doesn’t know what to do, floundering at the loss of Jūshirō and Shunsui’s Force connections. This part is loud, rings in his head and makes it ache more than it already does. Makes him have to take deep breaths and press palms to his eyes to stop any tears. Ridiculous. He’s being ridiculous. 

What he does know is they need to get to Hoth. He’s tired of playing this game with the crew. The only way to answer his questions is to go to who would know best. The rebels.

It takes a few minutes for him to collect his resolve, and a few more minutes to make sure he can actually stand and walk around, and then he’s opening the door and stepping into the main area of the ship.

Of course, the whole ship is there. 

“Byakuya!” Renji shouts, jumping to his feet and crossing immediately to him. He tries to put a hand on Byakuya, but it gets sidestepped. Out of the corner of Byakuya’s eye he can see Renji’s shocked expression at getting brushed off.

“We need to go to Hoth.” Byakuya says, eyes on Kenpachi.

They had all been crowded around the table playing cards, and Kenpachi laughs immediately from the head of the table. Yumichika is on his right facing Byakuya and Ikkaku is at the other end of the table across from Kenpachi.

“We have a schedule to keep, princess,” Kenpachi rolls his eyes.

Byakuya is kind enough to not let his anger out at the nickname. 

“I can’t wait much longer.” 

Laying his cards down, Kenpachi turns towards Byakuya.

“If you joined in at the arenas, time would probably pass faster.” He says, with the most annoying grin on his face.

“No,” Byakuya snarls, shoulders rising towards his ears. “Are you stupid? We’re Imperial criminals.”

“Nobody cares about that this far out,” Kenpachi stands as he says this, looming over Byakuya. “I’m done asking. You two aren’t contributing any other way. You might as well join the fights.”

Byakuya can tell his buttons are being pushed. Kenpachi has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face and he’s no doubt purposely trying to make him agitated enough to fight him _now_.

Instead of taking the bait, he huffs and spins on his heel to storm back into his room. He’s in the dark alone for all of two seconds before Renji is following him in.

“What happened?” Renji asks, and Byakuya notices he stays out of his space.

Byakuya rolls onto the bed, faces the wall and sighs. 

“I can’t feel Jūshirō or Shunsui.”

“Oh.”

Renji sits on the edge of the bed, it’s too dark for Byakuya to see him clearly, but he’s silent for a long time. 

“Sorry,” he finally says. “I guess that explains why you were gone for five days.”

Five days. The longest time he’s been gone yet.

“Byakuya,” Renji says, gently, “they’re strong, you know that--”

“I don’t need you to placate me,” Byakuya snaps, takes a few deep breaths to calm himself. “Sorry. I think I need to actually sleep.”

“You missed the arena this time, we’re heading off for Mandalore in a few hours.”

Byakuya rolls over, squints in the dark to try and see Renji’s face. 

“Would they be more amenable to our plans if we were fighting in the arenas?”

“Most likely,” Renji sighs, “you don’t get it because you’ve been raised as a Jedi your whole life. For us, fighting is everything.”

More like, Byakuya has been out of touch with anything not Naboo, Bespin, Corellia, or Alderaan since the moment he was shipped off to the academy. He’s always been coddled, and he’s always been too rigid to see other viewpoints. Whatever values the adults instilled into him are what he’s been grasping onto for years. As annoying as it is, and as much as it goes against those values drilled into him, he supposes doing what the crew of the _Yarrow_ want is better than sitting around and biting his nails.

“Tell them I’ll fight in the arenas,” Byakuya mutters, crawls under the covers and pulls them all the way over his head. 

⚁⚁⚁

The doors on the ship are surprisingly quiet, enough that Byakuya doesn’t wake up again until Yachiru is already on the bed. She landed on Renji, who was flat on his back, and his breath leaves him with a _woosh_. 

Byakuya had his forehead pressed against the ship wall, Renji’s arm solid against his spine. 

“Yachiru,” Renji manages, sounding strained as he shoves her. She doesn’t budge easily, hand locking onto Byakuya’s arm.

“Byakky,” she says, sliding off the bed while still gripping his arm. It pulls him so he’s laying partially on top of Renji. “You’re gonna fight?”

“Yes.” He answers, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. The meditating really messed up his body, it feels like he needs two days more sleep. 

“With your lightsaber?” She whispers, still pulling until he finally gives up and rolls over Renji to get up. Once he’s there, she lifts her arms in a way that clearly says she wants up. Urgh.

Byakuya hates children.

He lifts her up, ignores the way her smile brightens immediately. 

“No,” he says, wanders out of the room. He’s entirely too underdressed, only his pants and undertunic, but he’s been here long enough to stop caring. “The lightsaber would draw too much attention.”

“True,” Yumichika says from under Ikkaku’s arm, the two of them curled close on the pile of soft things in the corner of the room. “Just use those fighting skills Renji refuses to pick up.”

“They were being gross,” Yachiru whispers into his ear, glaring openly at the other two men.

“Hm,” Byakuya carries her into her own room, tries to let her go to set her on the floor and only ends up with her wrapped tighter around him.

She grins at him, like a little devil. 

“Kenny says you’re not as strong as you pretend to be,” she confides, and Byakuya thinks he can see the glint of mischief in her eyes. “He also says you’re just a spoiled brat who refuses to get his hands dirty.”

“Oh,” Byakuya nods, sits down on her bed with her still clinging onto his neck. “Do you believe him?”

“No, I know you’re strong.”

That vague and bizarrely off putting statement is never followed up on, because Byakuya hears Renji raise his voice in the common area. 

“Shut up,” he’s saying, Yachiru turning immediately towards the noise.

Renji is standing nearly nose to nose with Ikkaku, Yumichika still sprawled across the pile in the corner of the room. Byakuya is stepping out of Yachiru’s room when the doors cutting the cockpit off from the rest of the room slide open, Kenpachi glowering out at them. 

“What are you, children?” He growls, Yumichika sitting up and escaping into the cockpit the second he can. Ikkaku looks properly chastised, but Renji is still fuming. He’s stiff, shoulders a straight line and fists curled where they hang. 

Ikkaku steps back from Renji with his hands up, then peels off to the kitchen. At the clear lowering of tensions, Kenpachi looks seconds away from sliding the doors closed again. He turns though, eyes finding Byakuya.

“We’ll be landing soon,” he says, deep voice managing to lilt playfully, “hope you’re ready.”

Byakuya doesn’t answer him, just turns his nose up and looks back to Renji. 

Mandalore is dangerous for people like Byakuya and Renji. Not even just because they’re wanted men, they’re also Jedi’s. Perhaps the worst combination of things to be on this godforsaken planet. Byakuya has never liked this place, or the senators sent from the planet. Always so focused on war and domination and whatnot. While he spent so long trying for peace, Mandalorian senators were always the first and the loudest when it came to fighting him or anyone else who was trying to stabilize the galaxy. They were no doubt just proxies for what Aizen really wanted to say, but still. 

It’s even risky for the crew of the _Yarrow_ to be here, if Byakuya is honest. Their force sensitivity is so intense that they must be literally fighting for their lives every time they land. 

“No lightsabers?” Renji asks, hours later while they’re landing. Kenpachi has gone down to the hold, Ikkaku and Yumichika holed up in the cockpit with Yachiru. 

“It would be stupid to bring it,” Byakuya mutters, tightening the bandages around his knuckles. “The whole planet would descend on us and Aizen would know in seconds.”

That’s exaggerating, information doesn’t spread that quickly, but it’s essentially the end result. Yumichika told them the arena is fairly isolated, due to it being an underground thing, but that just means the rougher sides of Mandalore will be out in the crowd. The kind of people who know how much money it would be to bring a Jedi to someone with power. 

Renji looks hesitant. A shame.

“A lightsaber is nothing more than a fancy trick,” Byakuya says, sneering. “A good Jedi doesn’t need a lightsaber to fight, that’s a lesson you ought to learn.” In fact, the lightsaber is unwieldy and awkward. It’s too long and thin, too loud and bright, it requires years of training and drilling to properly use. A good Jedi understands this and only uses it as a last resort, one last overwhelmingly powerful Force tool to complete the job. Yoruichi, who Renji desperately needs to meet, has never used her lightsaber. Byakuya isn’t even sure if she has one, certainly she never used one while training him. 

She uses the Force, raw and powerful from her own hands. Channeling it upwards from the ground, through her body, to the tips of her fingers and hair. It sparks away from her like lightning, and one touch is enough to send you flying. She’s never lost a fight, not against anyone he’s ever seen her face. 

She used to tell Byakuya that a Good Jedi would never use a lightsaber, that it was a crude toy that was meant to show off the prowess of the user in the most brash and cocky way. “No subtlety,” she used to say wistfully.

Byakuya is not hesitant to leave his behind. Nobody on this planet is on par with him. Nobody has beaten Yoruichi, but Byakuya used to come close. 

“Don’t fight this time,” Byakuya says, folding his lightsaber up in his cloak and leaving it underneath the rest of their things. “Watch me and try to learn something.”

Renji huffs, clearly still wound up from earlier. 

Kenpachi’s voice echoes from where he’s greeting the arena people, boisterous laughter and snide comments floating up to the main area. Once they move closer, Byakuya stands and meets them at his door. Renji hovering somewhere behind him.

“Here’s the guy I was talking about,” Kenpachi says, hand gesturing towards Byakuya.

The men with him are all around Byakuya’s height, arms thick with muscle and stomachs bulged with repeated alcohol intake over the years. None of them are particularly remarkable, nothing more than underground facilitators who make others do the hard work. 

“He doesn’t look like much,” one of them laughs, hand reaching for Byakuya’s cheek.

It takes nothing more than a little muscle to snap his wrist. 

“Don’t touch me,” Byakuya says, over the man’s shout.

Kenpachi is laughing, the same boisterous laugh that echoed out of the hold earlier. 

“I told you guys not to mess with him!”

The men shift uncomfortably, the one cradling his wrist fuming. 

“He’ll be fine joining in, then?” Kenpachi asks, arms crossed over his chest.

“Fine, fine,” one of the men mutters, “he can start in the gauntlet.”

“That’s great,” Kenpachi says, then leads the men back out. Yumichika is there the next second, grinning at Byakuya.

“Whatever happened to no fighting? He didn’t even do anything and you broke him!”

“Those kind of men all think the same thing when they see me,” Byakuya sniffs, “it’ll end up there either way. I simply choose to streamline the lesson.”

It felt good, is the thing. Byakuya is slight, and pretty, and has glossy black hair that falls over his shoulders. Violence comes easy, the way he imagines power would lick up his vertebrae if he allowed it. He doesn’t like to indulge for this very reason. At some level, he’s scared of the way it feels, scared of the slippery slope it could lead him too. Men like that, however, will never learn until you make them feel pain. Even then, they will just keep coming back with delusions of their own strength and power. Laughable, really. It’s best to let them know immediately how things will be.

Yumichika snickers all the way to the arena after that, Yachiru clinging onto the man’s back and grinning along with him. Ikkaku sulks ahead of them, next to Kenpachi. The silence between those two stinks of _scolding_ , much like the silence between Renji and Byakuya. 

In Mandalore, the arena is large and extravagant. _As expected from this planet and the people on it_ , Byakuya thinks with a sneer. They’re left with their own room that overlooks the arena below, food and drink aplenty. Yumichika and Yachiru dive on the food, Ikkaku grimacing and pulling out a bottle of alcohol. 

“It doesn’t feel good here,” Yachiru says, the second bewildering statement she’s made today.

“Nope,” Kenpachi says, like he perfectly understands. Byakuya can feel the slightest stutter in the Force, but nothing that unsettles him.

“You’ll be in the gauntlet, little prince,” Kenpachi says, gesturing with a cup of booze Ikkaku hands him. Byakuya remains standing. “It means you’ll be put in with all the other people trying to get their foot in the door. Kinda insulting towards me, considering I sponsored you, but I think they were mad about the wrist thing.”

Renji snorts, settling down at the same table the rest of them are at. Yumichika pushes a plate his way and ignores Ikkaku’s gaze. 

“They have weapons in there, by the way,” Ikkaku says, eyes on Byakuya questioningly. 

“I don’t need a weapon,” he answers the look, settles himself in a chair by the door.

“Cocky,” Yumichika hums.

“Stupid,” Kenpachi laughs.

They don’t get anymore shots in, because someone appears at the door to call for him.

“We’ll be watching,” Renji says, no doubt trying to be comforting. 

The arena is fairly large, Byakuya needing to squint to see the person directly across from him. The ground is grass, an interesting choice, but there’s a slickness to it that tells him it’s all very deliberate. Yachiru’s foreboding statement comes back to Byakuya when he steps out onto the field. The door behind him slamming shut as if he’s made a mistake. No way out of this one, he figures, loosening his posture and opening himself up to the Force. It flows up from his feet, slipping through his veins like warm water. 

The other competitors all have weapons, as expected, Byakuya can spot at least three vibro-blades and a couple blasters. 

It starts with a tickling in his throat, the Force flooding his system getting agitated. Byakuya realizes the mistake then, the power sinking into the floor, the cause of the bad feeling. 

A horn signals the start, competitors running straight towards each other. Most go towards the middle, but some turn and go sideways towards their closest neighbor. The person to Byakuya’s left does this, a man with a slugthrower who stands at least a foot taller. All arenas attract the same kind of person, really.

Slugthrowers are actually the best weapon to use against Force users, even if this man didn’t realize it when he chose one. Blasters are just energy, the Force deals with that easily. Slugs are physical, harder to see and control. No choice but to dodge and disarm. Byakuya might even keep this man’s weapon after all of this. It’s rare to find a well-working slugthrower these days.

He sets up too far for Byakuya to hit, slugthrower shouldered and aimed before Byakuya can make it to him. 

The Force helps him move quick, enough to let him anticipate the speed of the slug and side step it. The man seems shocked, eyes widening. Byakuya is almost on him now, the weapon’s strap sliding off his shoulder as he brings it forward to use as a blunt weapon. 

Connected like this, Byakuya sees things in a weird, out of touch way. The Force is speeding him up and lending him power in a way that makes him feel like he’s just holding onto the reins. It’ll buck him off eventually, but for now it’s tame and letting him keep pulling.

The man grunts when Byakuya ducks under the swing of his slugthrower, fist connecting with his chin. Not an elegant hit on Byakuya’s part, could have broken his fingers if he wasn’t careful. In the next second he knocks the man’s feet out from under him, hands ripping the slugthrower out of his grip. 

“Mine,” Byakuya says, harshly, turns it so the butt hits the man square in the nose. His head knocks on the ground from the impact hard enough to assure Byakuya he won’t get back up again to cause problems. 

The slugthrower is good because Byakuya is not the only--

A vibro-blade, wielded by a woman, just barely makes contact with Byakuya’s tabard. He jumps away, over the man on the ground. The woman has her lips turned up. Even she is more outwardly muscular than Byakuya. No doubt both of these competitors figured Byakuya would be easy prey. 

Burning leather filters up from his tabard, but it’s ignorable. A vibro-blade is annoying, in the hands of the right person they have the reach and versatility that even lightsabers struggle to provide. This vibro-blade is a curved sword, not the right length for the woman. It’s too short, her own arm trying to compensate for the reach she wants from the blade. Sloppy technique, so Byakuya can beat her. No time to get the slugthrower into position as the woman is too close, but if he just--

Red power flows over the grass, the Force flooding Byakuya reacting and burning. The red lightsaber that cuts through the woman in front of Byakuya makes his gut clench. 

“King Kuchiki,” the Sith says, taller and wider than Byakuya. He has dark skin, bald except for the hard bones that poke through his skin at the top of his skull. His eyes are yellow, and he has three triangles tattooed onto his chin. He steps over the two pieces of the woman, closer to Byakuya. “What a surprise to see you here.”

He’s fast, Byakuya had last seen him on the other side of the arena. No time to take his eyes off him, but it wouldn’t be a surprise if they were the last two standing. Likely, he uses the Force the same way Byakuya does. Not totally the same, Byakuya’s is smooth and Yoruichi-styled. This Sith is using something more jarring, like he’s ripping the very space between them. 

“I’m Zommari Rureaux,” the Sith continues, following every step Byakuya takes backwards with a step forwards. “I’m sure Lord Aizen will be pleased when I bring you back.”

“I would like to see you try,” Byakuya taunts, breathes in deeply. The slugthrower was good, but too large and cumbersome to get a quick shot off at the Sith like this. He needs to get some space so he could fire it. If only Yoruichi had been able to teach him her lightning trick…

The Sith flashes forward, only Byakuya’s own Force speed keeps him out of reach of the red blade. He is good, this Sith. Not good enough, but no slouch. Byakuya flashes forward, uses the butt of the slugthrower again to knock into his lightsaber hilt and push it away, then kicks out towards a knee. The Sith moves back too quickly, Byakuya’s shoe barely grazing his skin.

“You’re fast,” he says, lightsaber swinging between them to keep Byakuya back. “Faster than I was told.”

“It’ll be to your detriment if you underestimate me,” Byakuya shoulders the slugthrower, finger on the trigger. Bad position to be in, the thrower long, like it had been modified for distance. 

In the next second, the Sith is behind him, lightsaber swinging down. Byakuya rolls out of the way, barely dodging the blow, and gets back up to dance away from the man.

“I’m the fastest of Lord Aizen’s Sith guards,” Zommari boasts, and Byakuya can hear the noise of the crowd then, hoots and hollers and the sounds of chanting. It burns away when the man tries the same thing again. This time, Byakuya knows the timing. He may be quick, but only the most foolhardy lightsaber wielder would lift their light sword so far up and leave themselves undefended. Byakuya swings out wildly with the slugthrower, strikes the man’s midsection and causes him to choke and nearly drop his light blade.

“Not faster than me,” Byakuya boasts back, an echo of his words making him realize everyone can hear what they’re saying. So much for staying low key. He can’t dodge the next swing, though, when it comes from the side. He makes it far enough away that the blow only manages to burn through his layers and scorch his skin, but doesn’t take his arm off entirely. 

“You’re awfully arrogant!” Zommari laughs, tries to get Byakuya on the ropes by moving _very_ quickly, coming at him from all sides. Yoruichi’s voice is loud in his head, _lightsabers are used to mask weakness, any man who uses a lightsaber has something he’s compensating for in his style._ Byakuya already sees this man’s weakness. He thinks too highly of himself. Believes himself to be the fastest. 

Byakuya is faster. Yoruichi is the _fastest_. Only a fool would think they could outclass someone trained by the best.

“You’re slow,” Byakuya mutters, “we are on two different levels.”

“Ha! Very funny,” Zommari laughs, “you have quite the big head, King Kuchiki.”

Byakuya _moves_ then, moves like Yoruichi. The slugthrower is against Zommari’s head, the trigger pulled in the next millisecond. 

It ends in a spatter of anticlimactic gore, some of it bouncing back to hit Byakuya. Truly, he was lucky the Sith had a skull as weak as a humans. If he hadn’t, it would have stretched things out far longer. A quick glance around is enough to tell Byakuya that Zommari dealt with everyone else. Cheap, really. The crowd is roaring, sound disorting oddly into the bowl of the arena. A man comes out towards Byakuya then, microphone in hand. He’s saying something about gauntlet champions.

“Any words for the crowd?” He calls, holding the mic towards Byakuya. 

“No.”

“Oh, come on, you moved so quickly! Bya--”

Byakuya has the slugthrower pressed against the man’s throat then, a snarl on his lips. 

“Don’t say that name.”

The man holds his hands up, smile hesitantly arrogant. Whatever he’s about to say is interrupted by another horn, attendants rushing out of the doors to collect the bodies. Byakuya is led back towards the door he came out of, handed a towel to wipe his face with. He’s tense, Sith frequently travel alone but there’s no guarantee that Sith was one of the loner types. 

Stepping back into their private room, Byakuya isn’t sure what to expect. 

Yachiru is jumping up and down, hollering like she just saw the best show ever, immediately runs at Byakuya when he gets in. Yumichika and Ikkaku are impressed, he can see the respect in their eyes, the way they’re looking at Byakuya like they’re recognizing his strengths. Renji just looks worried, probably wasn’t sure if Byakuya could really pull it off. 

Kenpachi looks like he wants to _eat_ Byakuya. It’s predatory, the way his eye slides over his whole body and sticks on his face. Even with Yachiru half-crawling up his body to get into his arms, Byakuya can’t stop looking at Kenpachi once they make eye contact. Heat moves up his neck, something like a flight or fight response kicking into his gut. It keeps him rooted to his spot, heat building between them. 

Glancing hesitantly between them, Renji gets up and pushes a cup into Byakuya’s hand. 

“Relax a little, will you?” He says, points him back to the table.

“That was amazing!” Yachiru crows into his ear, stuck stubbornly against his side. He sits with her still attached, moves her so she’s on his lap. “Soooo fast!”

They had taken the slugthrower, unfortunately, as it had been a weapon provided by the arena. Byakuya really wanted it, good to have a dependable secondary weapon. The cup is filled with some kind of booze, probably native to Mandalore. It’s not that great and Byakuya frowns through his cup.

“I thought you didn’t need a weapon?” Ikkaku says, no doubt trying to rile him up. These three were all the same. 

“I didn’t. It simply made things easier in the face of a Sith enemy.”

“Hmm,” Yumichika hums, studying Byakuya. “So much for not being recognized, huh?”

“Unfortunate,” Byakuya says flatly, cuts his eyes to Renji. They were fucked now, truly. Most people wouldn’t know King Kuchiki’s face, even if it was projected under his name on all the wanted posters. There was a reason for all the gowns and adornments and makeup, to keep him hidden. His face bare of the extras is nearly unrecognizable. Now though, he can feel the Force bubbling. This place is bursting at the seams with the chance to apprehend the Empire’s number one wanted man. Well, the story circulating was that Byakuya was kidnapped, but this little performance surely saw an end to that. 

It was still yet unrecognizable that he was a Jedi, at least. No lightsaber or anything beyond flashy displays of speed. Unless another Sith was in the crowd to see his masterful circulation of the Force he was fine on that front. 

“I want to fight you,” Kenpachi declares, shutting up Yumichika and Ikkaku from anymore comments. His tone is sharp like a book closing, meant to leave no room for arguments.

“I’m not interested,” Byakuya moves his eyes out the window and down to the arena. It would seem the one on one matches have started. Kenpachi is no doubt the last act. 

“You think you’re better than me?” Kenpachi demands, leaning forward in his seat, the energy in the room kicking up a notch. Untrained force-sensitives were always so bothersome. Their emotions poured out into the air with little to no finesse and impacted all those around them. Byakuya’s lip curls. 

“I know I’m better than you,” Byakuya snips, setting his glass down before he snaps it. 

Kenpachi is glowering again, their eye contact heating up and making the other three adults at the table cringe away. 

“Cocky royals, they don’t know anything.”

“Brash outer-rim dog,”

“Spoiled brat,”

Yachiru shrieks, at the top of her lungs.

Byakuya nearly throws her out of his lap with the strength of his jump.

“How do you move so fast?” She asks, hands fisted on his tabard. 

“The Force,” he stands, moves closer to the window. His burnt arm twinges at her weight, a reminder that he didn’t escape unharmed. “Watch this.”

Setting her down, he breathes deeply, feels the Force flow through and reaches to expose his burn. Healing is advanced, Byakuya can’t do much more than healing injuries like this one on himself. It’s principles are basic enough, though. Focus the flow on the damaged area, imagine it healing.

He can feel the skin restructure and become healthy again over Yachiru’s excited noises. 

“How? How? Show me how!” She yells, and Byakuya hums, narrows his eyes at her.

“You need to focus yourself,” he says, “let the Force inside you.”

“Don’t go teaching her your Jedi shit,” Kenpachi calls, standing from his seat. The crowd is growing increasingly loud and the arena is being cleared of competitors. Must be almost time for his fight.

“I’ll teach her whatever she asks to learn,” Byakuya says, turns and crosses his arms over his chest. Kenpachi looks ready to start a fist fight, taking a step towards him, only to be interrupted by attendants calling his name from the door.

Once he’s gone, Yumichika laughs loudly. “You’re bold!”

“How come you’re so good at shit like that but Renji hasn’t even picked up any of it?” Ikkaku says, ignoring the annoyed hunch of Renji’s shoulders.

“He’s stubborn, I’ve also been training since I was young. He started late.” Byakuya shrugs and moves his attention back to the arena. “Renji rises to the challenge when he needs too, and that’s all that matters.”

“Byakuya was in the Academy,” Renji huffs, an unnecessary detail to Byakuya but it gets awed noises from the other two men. 

Kenpachi steps onto the field, all hulking muscle and intimidating aura. While Byakuya still doesn’t think he would lose against him, he also gets the impression he hasn’t truly seen Kenpachi’s power.

“He always matches his opponent's skill level,” Yachiru whispers from his side, hands pressed against the glass. “No one is challenging enough for his real power.”

She grins at Byakuya, oddly reminiscent of Kenpachi’s smile down on the field. 

He’s fighting against someone named Nnoitra Gilga, surprisingly they’re both nearly the same height, even if Nnoitra is thin and lanky to Kenpachi’s thick and bulky. He’s wielding some kind of bizarre blade and has long black hair. In another instance of bizarre similarity, Nnoitra also has an eyepatch. It’s on the opposite side of his face than Kenpachi’s.

“Uh oh,” Yachiru says, Byakuya catching sight of the lightsabers on Nnoitra’s hips.

Uh oh, indeed. 

Kenpachi and Nnoitra circle each other before they exchange blows. Kenpachi also has a blade, and they don’t seem to be making much progress. It’s almost surprising how graceful Kenpachi is with his bulk, he twists cleanly out of the way of Nnoitra’s bizarre blade. As things escalate, Kenpachi and Nnoitra getting closer and closer to hitting each other, the crowd gets progressively louder. They haven’t even gotten a mark on each other, too busy sizing each other up. 

When Kenpachi feigns left, strikes right, Nnoitra wheels out of the way. He’s obviously panting, perhaps not used to someone with the tenacity of Kenpachi. The grin still hasn’t fallen off of Kenpachi’s face, fingers clenched on his sword. 

“You won’t be able to hit me,” Nnoitra laughs, voice echoing over the speaker system of the arena.

“Very funny,” Kenpachi says, equally as amused. 

Kenpachi’s blade comes down hard over Nnoitra’s chest, only to be intercepted and cut in two by one of the lightsabers on Nnoitra’s belt. The lightblade is dark, dark red, even darker than the Sith Byakuya faced. 

“I told you, you can’t hit me!”

Kenpachi doesn’t back away, as Byakuya would have, and instead moves forward and tries again with his drastically shortened sword. Nnoitra side steps it, dances back away from him.

“Many men have told me they’re untouchable,” Kenpachi says, “but everyone’s throat can be cut in the end.”

The Sith laughs, drops his strange sword and takes his second lightsaber in hand. “You sound conceited, that will be your downfall.”

Nnoitra uses niman on the level of a practitioner, Byakuya realizes. The incorporation of defensive soresu flowing into aggressive ataru almost taking his breath away. Kenpachi gets slashed, right across the chest, and stumbles. At the same moment, Yachiru shrieks and the doors to the private room crash open to reveal another Sith. His hair is blond, and he stands around Yumichika’s height. He’s wholly unimpressive, all things considered, even with his lightsaber out and pointed. He looks momentarily surprised to see so many people in the room, one eye widening. Funnily, he has an eyepatch on the opposite eye of Nnoitra.

Yumichika’s blaster is drawn in seconds, Ikkaku similarly pulling out a vibro-blade and powering it up. Renji remains where he is, though his posture loosens immediately. Maybe he is picking up on Byakuya’s lessons finally.

Yachiru doesn’t even turn, eyes on the arena field. In an effort to cover her, Byakuya steps in between her and the Sith in the doorway.

“Byakuya Kuchiki,” the man intones, “I’m here to take you back to Coruscant to stand trial in front of Lord Aizen.”

Yumichika laughs, “Not likely!”

The Sith’s lip curls, and he flashes forward, lightsaber swinging up towards Yumichika.

Ikkaku is there with his vibro-blade, the clashing of the two blades creating a harsh buzzing noise. Yumichika fires his blaster at the exposed Sith, who jerks back and away from the two of them. The blaster shots leave a burnt hole in the wall, Yumichika laughing again. 

Renji flashes behind the Sith, fist hitting hard into his lower back. The Sith chokes, spins to slash down towards Renji. With his back now exposed to Yumichika, he fires his blaster at the Sith. The blaster bolt hits home, cleaving straight through the man. Renji flashes over to Yumichika’s side, panting. He’s not used to the toll the Force takes when you’re using it, not like Byakuya is.

Power swirls around the Sith, wound mending itself. Talented, then, more than his fighting has revealed. 

Yachiru gasps behind Byakuya, and he turns to glance at what is going on down in the arena. Kenpachi is laid flat out, clutching at his neck. Not good. His aura is only increasing, though, so Byakuya doesn’t put much worry into it. If he was weakening, he would be fading from the Force. Byakuya can only feel him even more clearly. 

The moment of distraction is enough time for the Sith to take advantage of, and when Byakuya turns he’s face to face with him. It burns to let the Force in too quickly, but Byakuya needs to move and the Sith’s lightsaber is slashing--

Wrapping an arm around Yachiru, Byakuya hits the ground and scrambles away from the Sith. His lightsaber blade goes through the glass, shattering it. The noise of the crowd is a thousand times louder and unfiltered, and Yachiru is snarling like she’s about to jump into this. Yumichika fires again, and everyone has to duck the ricochets the Sith sends back. 

“Ridiculous,” the Sith says, annoyance in his tone. He glances out towards the arena, and his eyes widen in panic. “Nnoitra,” is all he gets out before Renji is next to Byakuya, lightsaber in hand. 

“I told you to leave that,” Byakuya growls, hauling himself and Yachiru back up. She dangles from his arm and starts wiggling to be let go. Unfortunately for her, he’s too wired to be moved much by her antics. 

“Oops,” Renji says, and then his green blade flashes and catches the Sith off-guard, slicing through his arm.

Lightsabers cauterize all wounds they cause, burning the flesh they cut through and causing more damage and pain. No exaggerated sprays of blood, just sluggish chugs from whatever flesh didn’t immediately get destroyed. The Sith gasps, attention switching rapidly between the arena below and Renji in front of him. 

Byakuya backs up around the table, to get up closer to Yumichika and Ikkaku. Yumichika is aiming towards the two Force users, blaster steady. He’s waiting, one eye on Byakuya and Yachiru. 

Across from their private room is a large screen. On it, Kenpachi is standing over a prone Nnoitra. Blood is still dripping off of him, but Nnoitra is gasping raggedly on the ground. Byakuya is almost sad he missed the fight. Nnoitra in obvious distress is enough to throw the Sith in their room off completely, his eyes wide and scared. Renji doesn’t bother with waiting or with sympathy, his green lightsaber cutting him down in a moment almost too easy. 

“Kick him out,” Ikkaku calls, once the body has flopped lifelessly to the floor. “Don’t want him to do that healing thing again.”

Renji follows the command, gets onto his knees to roll the body out of the broken pane of glass and into the crowd below. Gruesome.

“Lets just go straight back to the ship,” Yumichika mutters, putting his blaster back and peeling Yachiru away from where Byakuya has her pressed against his side. “We’ll be needing to make a quick getaway.”

The ship is docked outside, and with the crowd still watching Kenpachi finish off Nnoitra it’s shockingly easy to get to it. The first thing Byakuya does when they’re all in the common area is punch Renji. Right in the face. He gasps, staggers away. 

“You’re an idiot,” Byakuya says lowly, rubbing his knuckles. “Next time I won’t be so nice about you disobeying me.”

“Byakuya,” he whines, clutching his sore cheek. “It worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

“It will not always work out so nicely,” Anger wells up in his chest, enough to make him take five steps back and sit down in that insufferable pile of blankets and pillows in the corner. Deep breath in, deep breath out. He reaches with his mind, the Force responding kindly and letting him stroke over Renji’s connection. That soothes him, loosens his shoulders. “I’m trying to keep you alive here,” Byakuya finally says, once the red in his vision has cleared. Renji’s mouth is pinched, but there’s no doubt he felt the brush of Byakuya’s Force, the one he’s always used to sooth. 

Yumichika and Ikkaku watch silently, Yumichika abandoning Yachiru to Ikkaku so he can start prepping the ship. Mandalore was a bust, practically. 

Another ten minutes of stunningly awkward silence passes before Kenpachi makes it onto the ship. The second the hatch closes Yumichika takes them into the air. The Kenpachi that walks into the common space looks like a man who has gone through war. He’s soaked in blood, from his head to his toes, his skin sticky looking and red, eyes shockingly white against the blood. 

“You,” he points at Byakuya, “come with me. The rest of you, stay here.”

Promptly, he disappears into a room Byakuya has never been privy to. Kenpachi’s own quarters. 

It takes almost everything out of Byakuya to get up and follow him into the room, Renji’s eyes burning into his back. 

Kenpachi is sitting on his bed, stripped down to his fundoshi, Byakuya averting his eyes awkwardly. 

“Yes?” He asks, once the door has slid shut behind him.

“How good are you at that healing trick?” Kenpachi asks, and when Byakuya glances back he’s mopping up the blood with small towels, a long gash across his chest still steadily pumping blood out and a wound on his neck more worryingly dripping blood. 

“Not very,” Byakuya says, truthfully, “but I can try.”

Using the Force for healing is a lost art, truthfully, Byakuya’s mentors never knew how to do it and many of the current generation of Jedi have been working to recover the techniques. Kisuke used to spend a lot of time on it, back when he was still hanging around Coruscant and Alderaan with Yoruichi. 

It’s just another application of the way you manipulate the Force, but the intricacies are all missing. Byakuya has to stand in front of Kenpachi for an embarrassingly long amount of time gathering up enough Force to emit it from his hand. It’s harder given that they’re no longer on the planet, so the power doesn’t just immediately well up from the ground into his feet. Once he has enough, though, he holds his hand out over the neck wound first, imagining the skin resealing itself and the cells underneath rebuilding. 

It wavers, slightly, the glow from Byakuya’s hand fading. He frowns, closes his eyes again to pull power, and in that moment Kenpachi’s hand is sliding over his wrist. Big, callused, and _warm_ , the hand feeds him power. The immense amount of Force around Kenpachi bleeding through the contact and flooding Byakuya’s veins. The shower of power nearly makes Byakuya’s knees shake, the ruthless efficiency of it all. 

Kenpachi has more power than Byakuya can channel, however, and he can feel the overwhelming nature of the Force sinking into his system. Eyes rolling back, Byakuya has to stumble forward and place his second hand directly on the wound across the other man’s chest and pour out the power being given to him to prevent himself from shutting down. 

“Less,” Byakuya can barely struggle the words out, “power.”

When he can manage to get his eyes back on Kenpachi, he can see skin knitting itself back together slowly, deep in the wound, new blood dripping out, damaged skin sloughing away. Some of it is leaking out from between his fingers, a gross, meaty feeling. His jaw shifts, a rough swallow. The power being poured into Byakuya has dropped off, more of a trickle instead of a flood, and Byakuya can almost appreciate the way Kenpachi’s skin is warm, the solid steadiness of his hand around Byakuya’s wrist and the chest he’s half-leaning into. 

Wrenching his eyes away from his chest, Byakuya makes eye contact with the taller man. That look, the one that makes Byakuya’s own chest lock, makes it look like Kenpachi is considering him for his next meal, glues his feet to the floor. They’re completely silent, Byakuya’s face too close, practically holding hands with Kenpachi, the other hand touching parts of Kenpachi, dead cells and flesh and blood, that no one else has, or ever could. Oh, it’s overwhelming. The temperature between them is rising, Byakuya almost starts panting. 

Byakuya appreciates strength. It’s an unavoidable fact of his life. Hisana was _strong_ , whether or not people wanted to admit it. She worked her way up from the streets of Naboo to become one of the guards in the castle. He met her there, back when he was young and stupid and rebellious. She was his best, most important rebellion. She could hold him down, could stand for herself under pressure, could even challenge his own fighting prowess. In everything, she was perfect. The other unavoidable fact of his life is that tragedy will befall him, always. The worst things that can happen, do happen. 

Yoruichi used to laugh at his extremely dour nature, Shunsui would tell him to lighten up. Jūshirō told him that he was self-deprecating by nature due to the trauma he had been faced with. Whatever they said, it didn’t change the fact that Byakuya was ripped from his mother and father when he was a baby, placed into the academy. While there, his mother died. He was not informed until two years later. After that, he watched his own father get cut down, watched the destruction of the academy. Watched Yoruichi and Kisuke flee, watched Hisana die, was left behind by all to languish in Aizen’s grasp. He was a bad luck charm, one that everyone needed to rid themselves of. 

Kenpachi’s nose brushes Byakuya’s. He hadn’t even realized they were that close, it snaps Byakuya from his reminiscence. He feels the chest wound close underneath his fingers. Clearing his throat, Byakuya snaps back to his full height, takes a step back so Kenpachi’s hand falls off his wrist.

“My apologies,” he says. Glances at the gore on his left hand. His breath catches in his chest at it.

Before he can do something stupid, like retch, Kenpachi reaches out and wipes his hand down. Byakuya can’t even get himself to look into the other man’s eye, afraid of the intensity he might find there. 

“Get out,” Kenpachi mutters, dropping Byakuya’s hand. 

Inexplicably, Byakuya can feel the sting of rejection in his throat. Before he can make more of a fool of himself, he turns and exits the room swiftly. Renji and Ikkaku are at each other's throats, practically, the both of them wrestling like children on the floor. Yachiru is standing on the table, cheering Ikkaku on.

“What,” Byakuya seethes, frustration boiling in his gut, “are you idiots doing.”

They scramble apart, Yachiru whining at the sudden stop, Renji’s cheeks flaming with embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” he says, Ikkaku sweeping Yachiru up and knocking on the door to the cockpit. His eyes are on the floor, avoiding Byakuya’s gaze. The hint of a blush is crawling up onto his cheeks, as well. 

Byakuya doesn’t even wait for any explanation from Renji, just storms into their regrettably shared room and drops into position to meditate. He can’t do anything for an hour. He needs to soothe himself with something familiar. Everything is slipping through his fingers like sand.

Jūshirō and Shunsui still aren’t there, which nearly knocks Byakuya out of the meditation, his own agitation increasing tenfold. Yoruichi’s bassy tone is there though, so is Rukia’s Force connection. He lets himself breathe, slowly, feels the dull pulse of power, listens to the strength of Yoruichi and Rukia’s connection. No matter what, he still has them. No matter what. He hasn’t seen Yoruichi in at least ten years, but she’s still there. Still findable. Rukia was, maybe still is, mad at him. She’s still findable. 

He isn’t sure how long he stays like that, but when he opens his eyes again he feels looser, less worked up. Renji is snoring into his ear, the softness of the bed underneath him. He needs to apologize to Renji, take responsibility for getting them into the situation they were in, even if pieces of it seemed inevitable. Even if he had disobeyed, he hadn’t needlessly exposed them (which Byakuya had inadvertently done) and he waited until the last second to actually use his lightsaber. All things Jūshirō would have commended him for. 

It’s a struggle to get out of Renji’s grasp and off the bed without waking the other man up, but Byakuya manages it. His skin itches, blood from Zommari that was never washed off flecks off of his arms and neck. The refresher is empty, thankfully, and the ship is dark. In the refresher there are a couple of things, a sonic, toilet, and sink. The sonic is to save water, and Byakuya never realized how much he would miss the luxury of a shower. He strips down for the sonic, gets the blood off himself, then sticks each layer of his Jedi robes into the sonic. It doesn’t leave his clothes smelling like flowers, but they’re clean and at least don’t smell of old blood. 

Staring at himself in the mirror, Byakuya looks over his body. Still mostly the same, lithe but surprisingly muscular, body honed for combat. His abs don’t stand out, a thin layer of fat keeps them hidden. No matter how hard he worked he couldn’t get any definition on his stomach. It was something that infuriated him for the longest time, until he met Hisana. Hisana who also did not have abs, but could lay out the strongest man. 

What a fool Byakuya has made of himself out here. Yelled at Renji for no reason, exposed himself and the crew he’s traveling with, made some kind of move on Kenpachi, just one disaster after another. Humiliating. Byakuya should be better than this, is better than this. He was specifically trained to be better than this. He’s just been so frazzled, and lonely, and unexpectedly cast adrift. 

Deep breaths, and then he’s got his head screwed back on. He will apologize to Renji, tell him his judgement was correct. He will say nothing to Kenpachi. He will keep fighting, if only because it’s the best way to gain the crews respect. He will ignore the thrill in his blood from battle, ignore the quick trigger anger that boils just under the surface. Yes, a plan. He can follow plans. 

⚁⚁⚁

Kashyyyk is nearly as dangerous as Mandalore, in terms of Imperial involvement. Through no fault of the planet’s own, the Imperial forces had devastated the population and taken the planet largely for their own. If Byakuya was smart he wouldn’t even agree to fighting on this planet, but he’s been goaded. Yumichika and Ikkaku asking him if he’s so scared of Aizen to stay in hiding forever, Renji saying, “what would Rukia do?” 

Certainly, she would not make foolish judgements like agreeing to fight in a team battle on Kashyyyk. Even at her most impulsive she was better than this, surely.

Some part of Byakuya is excited for it, the part of him that knows fighting is easy, instinctual, exhilarating. Another part, the one with Jedi texts memorized and echoes of Academy masters, dreads it. Another fight for no reason other than sport. An expenditure of power and Force unprompted and for show. It sounds like such a slippery slope, like something is just waiting in the wings to catch his ankle and drag him down. Paranoia sinks in when he thinks too hard, but on the other hand the most fun he’s had in a long time was all the truly Jedi moments he’s had recently. Feeling the Force course through him, the sheer electricity of it all, cutting his shroud to pieces and not holding back his connection, all things he was discouraged. 

Maybe the _Yarrow_ crew really are onto something, the excited part taunts him. 

Perhaps.

Kenpachi and he haven’t spoken since the day Byakuya got too close, even going so far as to avoid each other. It’s childish, moreso from Byakuya than Kenpachi, who is not even drastically changing his routine. Byakuya is the one waking up early and hiding in other parts of the ship. Renji tried to ask him about it, only for Byakuya to play innocent. He’s long learned how to school his expression into nonchalance. The other man did not seem convinced, but unless Kenpachi was telling others what happened there’s no way for him to call Byakuya on his act.

Typically, Kenpachi shows up to an arena and meets whoever the new person to climb to the top of the other competitors in a fight. This time the organizers on Kashyyyk ask if he would be willing to bring a partner and fight against two competitors. They seemed to not want to take Kenpachi on his own, something he lamented as cowardly, and asked for it to be two vs two. Yumichika and Ikkaku still refused to fight this early in the circuit, and Kenpachi clearly did not consider Renji someone he could depend on. Byakuya picks up the impression that there's some lingering doubt, like how Ikkaku can’t seem to trust Renji either.

So, it’s Byakuya and Kenpachi versus whoever the two challengers are.

They’re in the tunnel to Kashyyyk’s arena when Kenpachi finally speaks to him again.

“Just stay out of my way,” he says, testing the sword he picked out from the options given to them. Byakuya did not select a weapon. 

“I’ll do as I wish,” Byakuya replies, irritation building. He’s too spoiled and royal to be bossed around like that.

Kenpachi turns to glare at him, but before any real argument can break out the doors to the arena are opening. In Kashyyyk, the arena is smaller, but the walls are taller. Mandalore was all metal, Kashyyyk is all wood. It’s noticeably less high-tech, and the rest of their crew are sitting in the front row above where they were let out. The ground is dirt, and there are stained patches across the entire arena. 

On the opposite end, two men step out. One is short, definitely shorter than Yumichika, and the other is _tall_ , shockingly tall. Taller than Kenpachi, even. Immediately, Byakuya is aware they’re Sith. Either this is a huge coincidence, or Byakuya and Renji have been found out.

The shorter one has eight arms, though only two seem to be dextrous enough to hold onto any lightsaber. Byakuya automatically redirects towards this one, the obvious target for Kenpachi will be the taller one. That one has no lightsaber visible, but Byakuya can tell by his energy flow that he’s controlling the Force around him. Likely boosting his physical abilities, from the feel of it. Byakuya can feel the Force flowing into his veins, can feel his focus narrowing. 

“I’m Luppi Antenor,” the smaller Sith says, once Byakuya is in range. “We’re here for you, Byakuya!”

All Sith are the same, really, with their big egos and weak ideals. Follow the leader, and whatnot. As long as they gain more power, who cares? Byakuya finds it sickening. 

The other man is speaking to Kenpachi, but Byakuya isn’t listening. He’s focusing, he’s watching Luppi. It’s idiotic to strike first, always. Byakuya has an outstanding amount of patience.

“Not going to say anything?” Luppi laughs, then powers up his (red) lightsaber and lunges forward.

Byakuya has never fought anyone with more than two arms, and it proves to be more difficult than he expects. The swing is quite wild, easy to dodge, but where the lightsaber had a wide aim, the arms shoot through the gaps and knock the wind out of Byakuya. 

He manages to stay on his feet somehow, the force of the blows enough to push him back across the dirt. Lesson learned: the lightsaber isn’t the only thing that can attack. It’s going to be tough to get into his space enough to do any real hand-to-hand combat, but Byakuya can figure it out, surely. 

“Where’s your lightsaber? Why weaken yourself purposely?” Luppi moves forward, following after Byakuya.

They’re getting too close to the other fight, Byakuya can practically feel the wind off the taller Sith’s punches. He plants his feet, turns to the side and waits for Luppi.

He tries the same move again, swinging wide and striking with his arms. Idiotic to think Byakuya isn’t smarter than that. Avoiding the lightsaber, Byakuya waits for the arms and grabs the one that tries to strike him. Grabs and pulls, yanks Luppi into a kick to the stomach. He’s still got the momentum, so he aims to crack Luppi’s face with his knee. The arms come back into play, though, sweeping wildly and knocking Byakuya’s feet out from under him. 

Luppi laughs again, swings down with his lightsaber. Using the Force coursing through him, Byakuya pushes over to roll away from the swing and the arm strikes. He manages to avoid all the hits, but Luppi is already following after him.

“You’re not as impressive as we were led to believe,” Luppi says, one arm extending out further than the rest to wrap around Byakuya’s left arm and tug him closer. “You really killed Zommari?”

Getting drawn in, Byakuya raises his hand and _pushes_ , the Force energy jumping from his palm to knock into Luppi. The arm doesn’t let go, unfortunately, so the both of them go tumbling through the dirt and knock against the far wall. Byakuya hits it first, Luppi’s body colliding with him. The full body contact gives Byakuya an opening he wasn’t expecting, the energy circulating in Luppi suddenly pressed close enough to feel. 

Reaching in, Byakuya twists. Luppi’s eyes automatically roll back, and he heaves. The arm around Byakuya goes limp enough for him to scramble upwards before the smaller man vomits on him. It’s an old trick, one Byakuya has only read about in the dusty old books Kisuke kept, and his unfamiliarity with it appears when Luppi is able to shake the malacia off quickly, rolling to his feet easily with the help of his numerous arms.

“Funny trick,” he says, and then he’s suddenly moving, the Force pushing him faster than before. Byakuya can only _pull_ his energy up out of the ground to form thin shields to block the rapid attacks from Luppi’s arms and lightsaber, and those break after the second hit they take. He’s left back-pedalling across the dirt, defending from so many attacks.

Luppi lifts his free dextrous hand and swipes through the air, Byakuya being thrown to the side. He manages to mostly block it by pushing the opposite direction, but then Luppi is back on him. 

Frustrating, Byakuya needs to push harder. Luppi is smart enough to recognize that Byakuya is struggling to handle the multiple limbs and is using it to his full advantage. He needs to disable him, somehow, and with that thought a plan starts to form. He lets Luppi push him further back, uses the Force to drag dirt with him. When Byakuya plants his foot, lets the Force flood in freely, he scoops the dirt with it and flings it at Luppi. The man chokes on it, arms swinging wildly to try and intercept Byakuya. 

The excess Force Byakuya lets in pushes him faster, one second being in front of Luppi and the next behind him, grabs onto one arm and pushes power into his arms to snap it right off, at the base. It’s sick, the snap loud and blood spraying out and then pouring. Before the pain even fully can register for Luppi, Byakuya has grabbed another one and yanked it off as well. So focused is he on the brutality of it, he misses the arm that swings out and snaps his head back, making him stumble and fall onto his ass.

Thankfully, he’s still circulating the Force he’s flooding in so the expected dizziness never comes and he’s back onto his feet before Luppi can turn to regard him. 

“You’ll pay for that,” he snarls around spittle and rage, lightsaber clutched now in two hands. 

“Unlikely,” Byakuya says, evenly, but he’s found an answer to the limbs problem. Just move faster. In his mind, it sounds like Yoruichi is saying it to him.

To move quickly, you need to be controlling the Force correctly. Most Force users can speed themselves up, but to truly move faster than others it requires a large amount of Force and a large amount of focus and control. Feed it into your limbs the correct way and circulate it around your body positively and you’ll start moving faster than anyone ever should. Yoruichi was the master of it, could move so blindingly fast that you would never see her in a battle, but Byakuya liked to think he was close. 

Luppi is done the second Byakuya invested in letting that much Force into his body. It takes a toll, exhausting and painful afterwards, which is why many don’t invest in it. Knowing he had another fight he would need to jump into, Byakuya was reluctant to begin the process of speeding up. No reason to stop now, though. 

It only takes a minute, and then Luppi is down four more arms. Byakuya disarms the lightsaber by breaking his forearm, the lightsaber falling out of his hand with the pain. He doesn’t see much reason to kill him, if the secret is out enough to have travelled, so he simply knocks him hard enough in the face to make him crumble weakly to the ground. Surely blood loss will keep him down.

Before, with Zommari, the drain wasn’t so bad because he finished it almost as soon as it began. Already, Byakuya can tell this is different. His muscles are beginning to ache, especially when he flashes to the other side of the arena, staying behind Kenpachi.

Kenpachi has taken some hits, his nose bleeding and bruises already beginning to show on his body. His kosode is in pieces, leaving his upper body bare. His hakama is in similar disrepair, the only thing even keeping it on his person being the very front and back parts of it tightly tied under his obi. The sides of it have been ripped away leaving holes on the sides of the hakama. It’s almost lewd, the entirety of his hips and outer portions of his thighs out for the whole world to see. Byakuya gets distracted by the sight of it, the muscle moving underneath, nearly misses the tall Sith’s sudden discharge of red Force energy. Kenpachi takes the full brunt of the hit, Byakuya manages to partially shield it. They both end up plastered to the wall of the arena, side by side. 

He wasn’t bleeding before, but now the impact with the wall causes a few cuts on his forehead that he has to wipe to keep blood from getting into his eyes. Kenpachi topples down from the wall into a heap on the ground next to him, huffing in annoyance. 

It only takes the slightest intake of Force to get Byakuya back up to speed, and then he’s above the taller Sith and kicking down. It lands, and knocks him to the ground, but Byakuya feels the impact all the way through his body, his teeth rattling with it. He lands nearby, stumbles back towards Kenpachi.

“This is my fight,” he snaps, finally standing again and brandishing the sword he brought in with him.

“You’re taking too long,” Byakuya pants, shakes his leg out. 

“Shut up,” he growls, walks back towards the Sith who is starting to stand back up. “I’m dealing with it.”

Byakuya can only _hmmph_ and stand back, waiting in the wings, essentially. 

It only takes Kenpachi a couple more hits to down the Sith, his sword nearly snapping under the weight of his swing and the resistance put up by the Sith’s skin. He seems to be unnaturally strong, probably something relating to his powers, but more interestingly is the way Kenpachi is able to extend his powers. His sword manages to cut, even when it logically should not, because he’s flowing raw Force power into the blade itself. That amount of raw power is ridiculous, impossible, shouldn’t be real. Byakuya wants to know _how_ , it seems so otherworldly that he’s left speechless. 

Each strike is not methodical, but they’re devastating, powerful strikes that cause the Sith to stumble and topple over. It’s captivating. 

Kenpachi ends up not killing the Sith, wanders back to Byakuya to glare at him some more.

“I want to fight you,” he says, while attendants push them back into the tunnel.

“I already told you--” Byakuya starts, only to get cut off by Kenpachi’s bulk hitting him in a tackle. Byakuya snarls, knocks his elbow hard against the side of Kenpachi’s head. The attendants in the tunnel are shouting and making alarmed noises, but Kenpachi ignores them and pulls back enough to aim a punch towards Byakuya’s head. 

They’re in a fairly indecent position, Byakuya flat on his back with Kenpachi kneeling over him, bare hips pressed between Byakuya’s knees, but neither are focusing on that. It’s easy, this close and with this amount of contact, to pull directly from Kenpachi’s insane power, he speeds himself up enough to redirect Kenpachi’s punch to instead impact the ground next to his head. One hand still holding the fist to the ground, Byakuya punches up hard, fist cracking across Kenpachi’s jaw. His fingers sting with it, but it’s worth it when Kenpachi grins down at him, blood dripping out of his mouth.

It’s at that moment Byakuya realizes Kenpachi is hard, the length of him pressing against his thigh.

Heat floods his cheeks, and he pulls _a lot_ of power from Kenpachi to get out from under him, speeding up enough to already be down the entire length of the tunnel before Kenpachi has turned. He finishes out the rest of the power he pulled by flashing directly to the ship, loitering outside it. 

Oh, he doesn’t know what to think. Or feel. Or even how to act. Ridiculous. He feels like a teenager again. Aching after Hisana as he watched her win him favors and participate in the friendly guard tournaments. Feels like he’s losing sight of what’s important, instead being overwhelmed by everything that is Kenpachi. The man walks around nearly undressed all the time, displays a level of strength Byakuya has never seen before, wields that strength in such unorthodox, strange ways that he’s always intriguing on some level. It’s all Byakuya can think about, his thoughts splitting between Kenpachi and his duty, his commitment. He’s faced with Kenpachi everyday, though, the man is always there, always looking at him. The rebels feel so far away, and if he’s not looking he can’t even see them.

On some level, the temptation Kenpachi offers is tantalizing. Everything Byakuya isn’t, a man bound by nothing and who does whatever he wants. Someone no one in Byakuya’s life would particularly approve of. He’s not typically interested in a purely physical relationship, but he can’t imagine Kenpachi providing anything but. It’s exhilarating, something different, something new. 

At least, when he’s thinking about Kenpachi he’s not thinking about being left behind. Not thinking about being coddled, or being bad luck, or any of those things. Kenpachi has enough power to deflect whatever dark energy Byakuya seems to bring to everything. 

The ache of his muscles is seriously setting in by the time the rest of the crew make it back to the ship, leg muscles cramping and core muscles twisting painfully. It’s not terrible, not enough to have him down for the count, but enough to be bothersome. Speed was occasionally not worth it, and truthfully he would be hard-pressed to get back up to speed again. 

Kenpachi is behind the rest of them, but his eye burns into Byakuya. Instead of matching his intensity, Byakuya looks to Renji. He’s been mean to Renji recently, they need to reconnect. Be there for each other. It only takes one look for Renji to walk faster and get under Byakuya’s arm, helping him walk. It wasn’t entirely necessary, but it does get some of the weight off his legs and allows him to relax.

“You good?” he asks, under his breath, mouth close to Byakuya’s ear.

“Fine,” Byakuya mutters, Renji helping him into the ship and straight back to their room. 

“What happened between you and Kenpachi?” Renji asks as he gingerly helps Byakuya onto their shitty mattress. 

“What makes you think something happened?” Byakuya dodges, pulls himself back onto the bed and pats next to him for Renji to sit. 

Renji has always been something like a puppy, always eager for affection and praise and attention. He’s young still, surprisingly unbeaten by the world considering how he grew up. He opens up to Byakuya’s slight show of closeness like a flower to the sun, eyes bright and hands already wrapping around shoulders like they were invited. It’s fine, Renji needs physical encouragement, even if Byakuya doesn’t. 

“He came to find us all pissed off, then didn’t even say anything to us! Even Yachiru couldn’t get him to crack.”

“Hm,” who knew he’d be that put out. “Nothing happened. I think he was mad at me for getting involved in his fight.”

The look Renji gives him says he doesn’t believe that, but he accepts it.

“I think,” Byakuya continues, and his legs are too sore to be placed criss-cross, but he turns to be facing Renji. “We should work on your meditation.”

“Urgh,” Renji turns also, but his shoulders are slumped.

“Any good Jedi has to master control and sense,” Byakuya preaches, dutifully, “before he can alter.”

Renji sticks his tongue out, but crosses his legs and breathes in and out deeply, evens his flow.

“This time I want you to try and feel me, look for my connection and project to me.” Byakuya relaxes his shoulders, loosens his muscles and lets himself sink into the Force. He finds it easier, nowadays, after repeated practice. Renji struggles to visualize. He’s too impatient and hasn’t quite grasped how to truly sink into the Force. It takes time to build your hand holds and foot holds, and Renji isn’t particularly enthusiastic about the process. 

Control is the first of the three aspects a Jedi is expected to learn and handle, but Renji is still struggling. No fault of his own, really, most of the classical Jedi were specifically taught from a young age so they never knew anything but control, Renji only started in his teens. He’s not bad at it, but he’s not necessarily graceful about it. 

Moving onto the sense aspect is maybe too big of a jump for him, but he’s really not that bad or behind. For sense, you just need to be able to control the Force and reach with it. It’s perhaps the better exercise to create finesse with the control aspect than the traditional control exercises. 

Byakuya makes himself brighter, easier to find, lets tendrils of Force beckon to Renji.

It takes time, but Byakuya can feel when Renji brushes over the tendrils he let out. Pulling them slowly back in, brings Renji closer and closer. He doesn’t feel as bad as he usually does, his Force nicely controlled and close to himself. The other people on the ship are distracting, their Force connections jagged and squirming all over the place, but it’s a good test. No doubt Renji reached for one of them first. 

“ _Why are you so agitated?”_ Renji projects, voice whisper soft in Byakuya’s head. 

Byakuya hadn’t realized he was agitated, but when he extends himself a little he realizes what was getting his energy up. Kenpachi is hovering close by, his energy prickling over Byakuya’s gently. Too close, like he’s standing outside their room.

“ _Don’t worry about it,_ ” Byakuya projects back, forcefully relaxes again, makes himself calm for Renji. 

“ _You shouldn’t keep secrets from me,_ ” Renji says, disapprovingly, and Byakuya gets agitated again. He breathes through it, brushes soothingly over Renji’s energy.

“ _I’m not keeping secrets,_ ” and he really isn’t. Maybe slightly, but whatever is going on with Kenpachi shouldn’t count. It’s not some crazy secret. Not even Byakuya knows what’s going on there. 

“ _Sure,_ ” and it’s ridiculous how much sarcasm Renji can fit into one word spoken through Force-mediated telepathy. 

“ _Work on actual meditation now_ ,” Byakuya huffs, pulling away and out of the Force. He ought to be meditating everyday, actually, if he wants to get any good at going in and out. Repetition is the Jedi’s best learning technique, after all. 

Kenpachi is standing _in their room_ when Byakuya opens his eyes. He actually jumps, not expecting the man to have gone past the doorway. There’s the slightest incorporeal brush to his consciousness, likely Renji trying to sooth, and then Kenpachi is gesturing outside into the common area. 

“What are you doing here?” Byakuya asks, not getting up and narrowing his eyes at the other man.

“I wanted to talk, but neither of you were answering when I knocked. So I let myself in.”

“Maybe if no one answered it meant no one wanted to deal with you,” Byakuya doesn’t need to say this, but he doesn’t like the violation of boundaries. It rankles.

Kenpachi’s lip curls, and one of his fists clench, but he otherwise does an admirable job of keeping his cool. “Just-- come on.” He strides out into the common area, turns and plants his hands on his hips and waits.

Well, no reason to not cave, Byakuya supposes. 

Stepping out, Kenpachi relaxes enough to slump into one of the chairs. It’s dark in the ship, and the room is empty of anyone besides them. It’s a little jarring, realizing how long he and Renji had been meditating. He’s even still in his dirt encrusted robes. 

“Do you expect the Sith to be waiting for us at the rest of the planets?” Kenpachi asks, which is so wildly not what Byakuya was expecting he almost can’t keep his composure. Something shockingly like rejection again writhes in his chest, forcing him to swallow roughly like some idiot. 

“I would consider it likely,” Byakuya paces a little. “It’s my belief that the news of my presence is making the rounds of gossip.”

“How annoying,” Kenpachi grumbles, “this is really fucking with our schedule.”

“It’s not exactly amazing for me either,” Byakuya says, sharply, turning to glare at the other man.

“Probably sucks to be ripped out of your castle and forced to cooperate with us dirty lot, eh?” Kenpachi sneers, something distinctly biting in his tone. Like he’s...projecting? Byakuya hasn’t even implied anything like that. He’s literally coated in dirt, standing right in front of him.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Byakuya says, eyes narrowed. 

Kenpachi stands, steps closer to him. He’s always looming, always trying to intimidate. Too bad Byakuya isn’t so easily moved. “Sure I do, you’re a Jedi, you’re rich, you’re a King.”

Byakuya can’t help but roll his eyes. “Those are basic facts, I know you’re Force sensitive, I know you’re a captain of a ship, and I know you like to fight. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Why won’t you fight me?” Kenpachi asks, stepping closer. He’s almost close enough to touch. “You always run away.”

Not because of the fight, actually, but Byakuya keeps that in. “It’s not the Way.”

“You keep saying that, but you don’t seem to have a problem fighting in the arenas.”

“I’m not given much choice in the matter.”

Kenpachi leans down, Byakuya gritting his teeth to not automatically lean back. 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he says, vaguely, and the ambiguity of it all makes Byakuya bite his lip. Can’t ignore the way Kenpachi’s eye focuses on that movement. 

They’re on each other the next second, and Byakuya would stake his life on Kenpachi moving first. He sweeps Byakuya’s legs right out from under him, the burn of the Force lighting up all of Byakuya’s pain sensors before he can dull them down to nothing. They’re scrabbling like children who have never learned to fight before, Kenpachi’s hand in Byakuya’s hair and pulling, Byakuya punching blindly at the other man’s neck and chest. It becomes wrestling, essentially, and even with Byakuya pushing for speed the other man is managing to keep up. Mainly because a punch means practically nothing to Kenpachi, but also he’s tracking Byakuya better than most would. 

He’s panting, shoving Kenpachi away with his thighs and legs and kicking his foot out to try and catch his face. His ankle only ends up caught in his hand, and then he’s yanked back in close, Kenpachi hovering over him. 

“You’re powerful,” he says, and his pupil is blown out, mouth open to pant. 

“You’re annoying,” Byakuya grumbles, but he’s in no better condition, can feel himself aching. 

“We should have been doing this from the start,” Kenpachi laughs, blocking Byakuya’s punches. They’re back in the position from the tunnel, Byakuya on his back and punching up. He’s wrapped his legs around Kenpachi’s waist this time though, twisting his hips to try and unbalance the other man or give himself enough room to wiggle away. Kenpachi eats one of his punches, but drops one hand to Byakuya’s waist and the other to curl behind his shoulder. 

With a tug from the hand on his waist, he rolls his hips pointedly _down_. Byakuya can’t hold back his gasp, one hand fisting Kenpachi’s shirt and the other fisting into his ridiculous mane of hair. Kenpachi's lips are on his neck then, sucking harsh marks way too high. 

“Too high,” Byakuya mumbles, uses the hand in his hair to try and pull him further down. Kenpachi just laughs, lifts his head and shuts Byakuya up with a kiss. It’s sloppy, open-mouthed and filthy. 

Byakuya is being flooded with Kenpachi’s power, which means he’s distractingly aware of everything. This allows him to feel Renji start to move, his connection flex and bend with the movement of getting up. He has to break away from the kiss, shove Kenpachi’s face away from his neck and jaw.

“Renji’s coming,” he gasps, plants a foot on Kenpachi’s thigh and pushes to get himself out from underneath him. The other man relinquishes, sits back on his haunches and watches Byakuya scramble to sit in one of the chairs. Kenpachi looks ravished. He’s flushed, hair wilder than usual, thankfully his pants are loose enough to hide the hardness Byakuya knows is there. He has a bruise developing on his cheek, at least, from Byakuya’s fist. 

Renji opens the door to their room, peers out at them curiously. “Everything okay?”

Kenpachi does not move to acknowledge the other man, keeps his gaze on Byakuya.

“Yes,” Byakuya answers, turning to level a look at the younger man. “Everything is fine.”

This is not a convincing answer to Renji, and Byakuya knows it. He narrows his eyes, looks between them critically. “Well,” Renji hesitates, a long look lingering on Kenpachi. “I need help with _Jedi things_.”

That is a blatant lie, Renji is just trying to separate the two of them. Byakuya can feel his jaw clench. 

“Now?” Kenpachi demands, finally turning to look at Renji. “We’re a little busy here.”

Renji’s brows crease, and he hesitates again. “With what?”

Argh, that idiot Kenpachi fell right into Renji’s trap. “We were having a disagreement,” Byakuya says, with a glare at Kenpachi. “What is it you need help with?”

“Jedi things,” Renji says again, stubbornly. This is exactly the kind of protective, possessive shit Byakuya would expect from a _child_ not from his _twenty year old_ padawan. 

“Fine,” Byakuya snaps, before Kenpachi can say something terrible. “I’ll be there in a second. I still need to clean off the dirt from the arena.”

Kenpachi grins, all his teeth showing, and Renji closes the door by slamming his hand on the button. So frustrating. 

The second the door is closed, Kenpachi is across the floor and between Byakuya’s thighs. He’s tall enough that Byakuya only has to lean a little into the rough kiss, one hand clamping on his jaw hard. The other pulls him by the hip straight off the chair and into the other man’s lap.

“We can’t,” Byakuya gasps, yanking his head away from the kiss. “Renji is eavesdropping.”

“You and him…?” Kenpachi trails off, two hands holding Byakuya’s hips hard enough to bruise. 

“No!” Byakuya squawks, offended. He’s always had that assumption leveled at them, but it’s so-- wrong! “He’s my padawan, I would never--”

“Okay, okay,” Kenpachi laughs, leans and bites down on Byakuya’s neck. He uses the hands on Byakuya’s hips to pull him down for one last _hard_ grind. It makes Byakuya choke, fingers scrabbling on the other man’s shoulders. He lets up, hands loosening on Byakuya. “Go then.”

Byakuya presses a kiss to his cheek, and then scrambles to get into the refresher. He goes quickly, cleans himself and his clothes off in the sonic, and then goes back to the room he shares with Renji. Kenpachi is gone by the time he gets out, a good thing because Byakuya doesn’t know if he could walk by him again. 

Renji is folded up on the bed, glaring at him, when he steps in.

“What are you doing!” He exclaims, arms waving.

“What?” Byakuya doesn’t even fully understand what the problem is, he crosses to sit on the bed, eyes narrowed at his padawan. 

“We need to get moving to the rebels, that’s what you said,” Renji mutters, arms wrapping around his knees. 

“We are. Nothing has changed, why are you mad?”

“Wh-- you, I just, I could feel your emotions, you know!” Renji rolls so his back is to Byakuya. 

“You’re an adult,” Byakuya finally growls, lays a hand on Renji’s shoulder and pulls him onto his back. “Speak what you really want to say.”

“You and Kenpachi! We need to be going to Hoth, not forming attachments!”

How antiquated of Renji, a very pre-massacre Jedi temple sentiment. “Who ever said I’m forming an attachment? Stop jumping to conclusions. The goal is still the same. It’d do you well to not keep torturing yourself, you know. Whether we like it or not for now we are stuck on this ship.”

Renji doesn’t look convinced, but he at least slackens the glare. “I thought you didn’t like to fight, you’re the one who discouraged it.”

“I’m not going out and looking for these fights, am I? It’s not the same.”

Finally, with a sigh, Renji relents. He shuts his eyes tightly and mutters, “sorry.”

“Let me make my choices,” Byakuya says, “in the end no one matters to me as much as my family. That includes you.”

⚁⚁⚁

The abruptness of their departures from Mandalore and Kashyyyk have put them slightly ahead of schedule. Just enough to lengthen the amount of time they linger in space. This leaves Byakuya and Kenpachi an embarrassingly large amount of time to fool around in the night. They can never get far, due to interruptions, but it’s entirely too forward and intense to stray into Kenpachi’s own room. Everyone, except perhaps Yachiru, are certainly aware of what they’re doing, and everytime Yumichika catches them scrambling away from each other he curls his lip and snarls, “just get a room, already.”

That’s just too much too fast. Byakuya isn’t ready for that.

The extended stay in space also leads to an increased amount of tensions among everyone. Ikkaku and Renji are nearly snarling at each other like animals when they see each other on the ship. Yumichika, who before was placid at best about their tension, is beginning to look irritated whenever it happens. Kenpachi’s brows draw together in annoyance, and Byakuya himself can feel the strain of their negative energy. 

One day before they’re due to land on Nal Hutta, Byakuya has to jump out of bed at the sudden shouting in the common area. It’s an actual, honest to god fight. Ikkaku has Renji in a chokehold, the other man scratching Ikkaku’s forearm to shreds. Yumichika is shouting at them, Yachiru’s door shut tightly. 

Before Byakuya can get involved, Kenpachi is lumbering out of his room and picking up Ikkaku by the back of his kosode, dragging him right off Renji. 

“Enough,” he says, throws Ikkaku away from him. The man lands in a heap by Yumichika’s feet. 

“It’s been six years,” Kenpachi continues, arms crossing over his chest. “Get over it, Ikkaku. Yumichika is right next to you, alive.”

“And you,” Kenpachi turns on Renji. “Stop acting like some kicked dog. You took ownership of your mistakes long ago. Be a man, will you?”

He stomps into the cockpit then, shuts the door behind him. 

Yumichika gives Ikkaku a kick in the back then, harshly, glares down at him. 

“...sorry,” Ikkaku grumbles, not even looking at Renji. 

“I was stupid back then,” Renji mutters, “I swear I’m different now.”

Ikkaku doesn’t reply, just keeps his head down. 

Renji sighs, but doesn’t push. He gets up and walks back to the shared room with Byakuya. Pushing by, he flops onto the bed.

“I got thrown off the ship back then because I messed up. Almost got Yumichika killed. It was real bad, we didn’t think he was gonna make it.” Renji offers, far too used to Byakuya’s quiet prying to bother holding back. 

“He did, though.” Byakuya runs his fingers through Renji’s hair comfortingly. Trying to emulate things Jūshirō would have done for him when he was upset. “It’s no fair to keep holding a grudge. You were a kid.”

“Maybe,” Renji mutters into the pillow. 

With that little piece of interpersonal drama somewhat solved, they land on Nal Hutta. In one of their late night moments, Kenpachi had gripped Byakuya’s waist hard and muttered, “Nal Hutta sucks, all cheaters and crooks.”

Byakuya didn’t have a much better opinion of the place. Hutt space was someplace he never bothered going to before, and he’s not particularly inclined to show his face now. The only good thing is the Empire has little to no influence on the planet, in fact, Imperial armaments are frequently shot down in Hutt space. 

This leads to a frankly pleasant fight for Byakuya. It’s just some alien. Nothing special about him, Byakuya knocks him out with a well-aimed fist. It feels pretty good, to just fight. Without using his fancy Jedi powers. Organic, or something. Kenpachi has a similarly easy fight, though the opponent tries to cheat. They have some kind of poison they try and inject into Kenpachi, but he’s not a fool. Kenpachi does kill this opponent. Says something like, “cheaters have no right to live,” and then cracks their neck.

It leaves them with a frankly relaxing amount of time on the planet. It’s not that great, the room is small and the planet doesn’t even smell that great, but it’s not the _Yarrow_. Anything is a good change from that. They all sprawl out, some distance between them, and relax. It’s nice.

They all pile onto the ship after their allotted two days on Nal Hutta, and are heading to Bothawui. Byakuya has actually been there before, when he was young and spending time with Shunsui, so he’s cautiously optimistic. For something. He’s not entirely sure what. 

The feeling strengthens as they get closer, and the reason why solidifies while he’s pressed close to Kenpachi, fingers down his pants, mouths sealed together. 

“ _Byakuya, I’m on my way to you,_ ” Rukia’s voice echoes in his head. He yanks away from Kenpachi with a yelp, eyes wide open. 

“Wha--,” Kenpachi says, when Byakuya yanks his wrist to pull his hand out of his pants and bolts across the ship to the room Renji is asleep in. He clatters in, too excited to bother with being graceful. Trips on his own feet right before the bed, crashes onto his knees. 

Startled, Renji rolls over and stares at him. Oh, Byakuya didn’t consider how he’d look. His lips are definitely kiss swollen, and his tunic is hanging half open. Renji’s nose crinkles a little, but he doesn’t look too terribly scandalized.

“Rukia just contacted me,” Byakuya says, breathlessly, “she’s going to meet up with us.”

Renji is wide awake then, sits up and hauls Byakuya into a tight hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got tired of proofreading and only reread like half of this. hopefully no glaring errors. btw i know lightning = sith typically but. NOT IN THIS STORY!


End file.
